


2003

by marlboro_reds



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Afghanistan war, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Injury, M/M, POV First Person, Politics, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 71,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlboro_reds/pseuds/marlboro_reds
Summary: Levi is an army doctor with a bad back and a talent for chain-smoking. Eren is a hard-headed young soldier with a dark past who gets injured on tour. When Levi treats Eren, they strike up an unexpected friendship, which develops in ways neither of them could have foreseen.This is a coming of age story in which two men with strongly held ideals struggle to reconcile their dogmas with their feelings for each other.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 219
Kudos: 315





	1. Protect Ya Neck

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with one question: 
> 
> What do you do when the person you love has a deeply different moral and political standpoint to you on an issue that means everything? 
> 
> And this is the end result: a medical drama set during the Afghanistan War. There will be blood, sweat and tears, as well as excessive cigarette smoking. Hope you all enjoy!

LEVI

It’s hot as fuck. 

The stiff collar of my uniform is tight against my neck. I work my fingers underneath it to relieve some of the discomfort, and they slip against a slick layer of sweat that’s been steadily developing over the last few hours I’ve been dressed. The grains of gritty sand that seem to survive every wash scrape against my nape. Gross. 

I’ve always liked warm weather, but that was back home. Warm weather in New York meant riding bikes by the river, smoking joints in the park, the occasional glimmers of afternoon sun shining down to illuminate Kenny’s shitty basement-level apartment. Not scorching in literal deathly heat inside a dingy, plastic-lined tent full of injured soldiers. We keep the place as clean as possible, but the rantioned amounts of medical-grade disinfectant we’re provided can’t hide the strong smell of sweat and blood that permeates the air. The end of every shift has me pulling up litres of water from the old well at the edge of our encampment and scrubbing my skin until I’m raw. Rinse, rinse again, and then repeat the next day. If I’m particularly lucky, the smell follows me into my dreams as well. 

Afghanistan’s no joke.

I don’t know if bandaging up half-dead soldiers in foreign territory was at the top of my list of dream careers as a child, but I guess I never really had much of a choice in the matter. Kids raised by convicted drug dealers don’t tend to get too far in life unless they can rap, and I’ve spent most of my life failing miserably at spitting Wu-Tang bars, so this was never a viable option. My skill set is confined to my sharp tongue and physical strength, which never made me very popular with my classmates. For me, school was less about fifth-period gossip and finding a date to prom, and more about cutting class to smoke cigarettes and fight behind the bike sheds. I managed to make it until my seventeenth birthday before they decided to kick me out. As a grumpy bastard with a non-existent GPA and shitty social skills, I didn’t have much to offer society, so I bounced around a couple of fast food joints until I turned eighteen and did what any sensible person in my position would have done: I packed up my shit, said a loving goodbye to the man who brought me up (Kenny gave me a half-hearted wave in return from his usual spot on the couch) and joined the army. 

The army gave my life structure. It took adjusting, but I thrived there in those early months. My physical prowess made me the top recruit in our year’s intake, and I met other kids who were outcasts in the same way that I was. I actually made some friends. Apart from a couple of little puffs on a doobie on a night away from base, I’d quit drugs. For a hot minute, I was straight edge as fuck and feeling pretty good about life, until it served me the biggest curveball in the form of a training exercise gone horribly wrong. I lost my friends and ended up on months of bedrest, with newly-acquired back problems far too advanced for someone of my age. No longer fit for active service. A serious downward spiral was the only foreseeable thing in my future until I was offered a spot on a medic training program, and nine years later, here I am. A cranky army doctor with black lungs and a limp, attempting to pick up the pieces of our nation’s best and brightest young soldiers. 

I’m standing in the corner of the tent closest to the entrance, sanitising my hands. I’ve just finished my first rounds for the day, and all of my patients have been sufficiently poked and prodded. We haven’t seen a major conflict in a couple of weeks, so most of our beds are clear save for amputees waiting to be flown out, and a few unlucky stragglers that ate some local food they couldn’t stomach. Imagine being sent off to war and being defeated by a bad piece of meat. Petra’s bringing around water for those poor dehydrated souls, and Mike is pulling stitches out of a guy’s arm to my right. Erwin’s talking to a guy down the back whose entire head is swathed in bandages. I watch him for a moment, and he catches my eye mid-sentence, throwing me a subtle nod. Approval for the smoke break he knows I’ve been itching for since I started working. 

Sometimes the vibe in the tent gives me the worst malaise, and today appears to be one of those days. Leaving through the front entrance feels like being reborn. The sun shines brightly into my eyes, reminding me that there’s more to life than depressed people who’ve just lost limbs. I pull my pouch out of my pocket and start rolling. Despite being hot as the depths of hell, it’s beautiful out here. The heat’s not as stifling or damp as it is inside the tent, and a light breeze rolls by, catching the sweat beading on the back of my neck. Sweet relief. I fumble around in my other pocket for my lighter, and once my cigarette is lit, I inhale deeply. Even sweeter fucking relief. 

The tent flaps open again. It’s Erwin. He walks over to me, positioning himself strategically upwind to avoid the clouds of smoke I’m puffing out. He’s in a contemplative mood, staring down at his shoes with his hands in his pockets. I don’t say anything. We’ve known each other long enough to be comfortable with extended periods of silence. 

Erwin’s honestly amazing. I’ve never looked up to anyone more. He was the doctor that treated me after my accident, and I was depressed as anything once the army dropped me. Erwin put up with a lot of poisonous behaviour, and managed to talk me into signing up for the medical program despite my poor educational history. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t be alive today if he hadn’t been there for me back then. 

He takes his hands out of his pockets and runs a hand through his hair. Sweat glistens on his temples. “I think Anderson’s going to lose his right eye.” 

I take another drag. My cigarette is almost done. “Tough shit.” When I say these things to Erwin he understands what they really mean. I’m not as callous as I come across. I just see too much death and injury on the daily to spend time dwelling on it during my smoke break. He gives me a small smile, picking up on my unspoken request to change the subject instantly. I honestly love this man. 

“Doctors smoking cigarettes is a bit of an oxymoron.” 

I take it back. Fuck Erwin and his whole life. 

“Get off my back, asshole.” I stub the butt out underneath my boot. 

He laughs softly. Erwin’s favourite game is stealthily trying to convince me to quit, but having been denied all of my other vices due to my unfortunate involvement in an international conflict, I’m hanging onto my cigarettes until someone pries them out of my cold, dead hands. Erwin wouldn’t get it. He’s only smoked once, a few puffs off one of mine when we were piss-drunk on his whiskey stash back home, and he threw up a minute later. He’s such a square. It’s adorable. 

His walkie-talkie goes off in his pocket, the static noise startling both of us. Erwin steps away to answer it, and I quickly start rolling again. The walkie-talkie is never a good sign. I’m going to smoke as much as I can before we’re rushed off our feet. I watch him as I light my second. He’s too far away now for me to hear what he’s saying, but he looks grim. I’m trying to lipread, but he’s holding the device too close to his face. I’m almost finished when he heads back towards me. 

“Something’s gone down about half an hour away. They’re coming back to base now. Two with light injuries, three more serious. One of them likely won’t survive the trip.” He’s business Erwin now, the contemplative look on his face long gone. “Put that out and start scrubbing up inside.” 

I reluctantly abandon my post, marked by a cigarette butt mass grave, and follow him back into the tent. Tension ramps up as he preps the others, making the atmosphere even more stifling. Eld comes in wearing civilian clothes, and runs into our makeshift operating room to toss on a spare uniform. I catch Petra chewing a hangnail on one of her freshly cleaned hands, and send her back to give them another wash. I sit down on an empty bed, my hands tingling. Everyone hates The Wait, a phenomenon I visualise capitalised to underscore the impact it has on our team. Once the casualties arrive, when you’ve got your hands full, when the adrenaline starts rushing and you know what you’re working with, you’re away laughing. But this sick sense of anticipation is incomparable. Even Erwin isn’t immune: he’s pacing up and down the length of the tent, footsteps loud and heavy in the relative silence. The rhythmic slaps against the plastic matting floor is ramping up my sense of foreboding, so I try to tune it out by focusing on quieter ambient noise. The clicking of a ventilator in the corner. The breeze rushing by outside catching the tent’s canopy. Chatter of soldiers standing in line for the latrine. I close my eyes and steady my breathing. For a moment, I could be anywhere. I could be back in America, counting down the minutes until the end of my shift at base camp, desperate to get home and catch the last of the afternoon sun on my balcony next to Hange, tuning out her incessant shit-talking. Bathed in warm oranges and yellows, the visual is strong behind my eyelids, and it’s so dear to me. I take it in like oxygen, until the sound of a Humvee pulling up outside the tent breaks through. Erwin’s standing nearby when I open my eyes, grounding me in this reality.

Voices start to get louder outside, some markedly panicked. Vehicle doors open and slam, and footsteps approach the tent. Our first casualty is a man on a stretcher, borne by a couple of shell shocked-looking soldiers who appear to be uninjured. The guy they’re carrying is unconscious and his arm is swaddled in a makeshift sling. Erwin and Mike take him over to a clear bed. Petra and I brace for the next arrivals. 

It’s two soldiers, their camouflage uniforms filthy and tattered. One’s a gangly, dark-haired boy, and the other is a shorter Asian girl. It doesn’t take medical training to figure out how to triage this pair. The boy’s covered in blood. It’s coming from a wide gash on his forehead, dripping down his face and onto the collar of his uniform. The lower half of his trousers are torn, and I can see a few gnarly, sharp-looking pieces of shrapnel sticking out of his left leg. His eyes are screwed shut, and his mouth is stretched into a pained grimace. The girl is doing an impressive job of supporting his weight: he looks like he’s struggling to hold himself up, and she’s hardly breaking a sweat. She locks onto Petra and I and immediately starts shouting. 

“Oi, you two! Don’t just stand there, help us!” 

This drains away the lingering apprehension of The Wait immediately, jolting me into action. The adrenaline finally kicks in as I move towards the pair and wrap my arm around the injured soldier’s free shoulder, bracing him. The back of his uniform is soaked with sweat. I guide us over to a clear bed. His grimace clears slightly upon lying down, but his eyes remain shut. 

“What happened?” I direct this question at the Asian girl, who appears preoccupied with brushing the soldier’s dark brown hair off his forehead. She has a slightly menacing aura that’s at odds with her beautiful face. She doesn’t look at me as she replies. 

“Some idiot stood on a landmine and blew himself up. Eren was pretty close and he got thrown about a metre. He was wearing his helmet. I think that’s what cut his face.”

I inspect the gash. Looks about right - it’s a perfect, straight line across his forehead. Too clean for a shrapnel wound, and probably too shallow. If he’s lucky, he’ll get away without a scar on his face. The leg, I can see from a quick glance, is a different story. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. 

“Eren, I’m Doctor Ackerman. Can you open your eyes?” First and most important part of the triage process: check for head injury. Undiagnosed concussions are a stealthy killer. 

Eren inhales and exhales deeply before following my instruction. His lids flutter slowly before snapping open, and I realise I recognise him. I’ve seen these eyes a few times across the mess hall. He’s a tall kid with tanned skin who can’t be any older than twenty. He’d fit in better playing lacrosse on a college field than bleeding out in a military encampment. I pass a torch light over his eyes and they follow its movement. Good.

“Tell me your full name.”

He splutters a little. His mouth is slick with blood and saliva, and it trickles out in small rivulets down his face.

“Jaeger. Eren Jaeger.” 

“Birthday?” 

“30th of March.” He takes a deep, rattling breath and coughs up more blood. I glance around for Petra. She’s pulling a caddy of medical supplies over to where we’re stationed. Eren Jaeger keeps talking. “I’m your typical Aries.” I look at him, nonplussed, as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. 

“Are you delirious?” Surely making references to astrology is high on the diagnostic guide for severe brain damage. When I receive no response other than a few light coughs, I look at the Asian girl for guidance. “Is he fucking delirious?” 

She shoots me a look before resuming her fussing with his hair. “No, Doctor, I don’t believe he is delirious. I’d appreciate it if you could start looking him over instead of asking rude questions.” 

This girl’s got nerve, I’ll give her that. And luck’s on her side, as my energy levels are currently not high enough to tide me through a fight with a teenager in front of her injured boyfriend. Instead, I begin my examination of his abdomen, lifting up his shirt and tapping away in different areas to search for internal bleeding. He’s responding well, a little discomfort visible on his face when I dig in under his ribs, but nothing to indicate severe damage. Petra wipes at his face with a sterile cloth, clearing the area around his gash of blood and dirt in order to apply a dressing. She’s struggling to work around the girl, who is still hanging around insistently, murmuring things in Eren’s ear. Petra lacks the assertiveness to tell her to back off, so I decide to take one for the team. 

“Petra, I’m fine here. Get rid of the girl.” Satisfied with the state of Eren’s abdomen, I pull his shirt back down. Time to have a look at this leg. 

The Asian girl looks at me with one of the most distasteful expressions I’ve ever seen. “I’m not fucking leaving Eren.” 

I genuinely never have time for this shit these days. “Yes, you are.” Her expression grows more eerie by the second, so I elaborate a little for her. “I see shrapnel wounds like this more often than I get a decent hot meal out here. His leg’s fucked, and this is going to take hours. You sitting nearby making doe eyes at your boyfriend is only going to be a pain in the arse for me while I’m trying to work.” 

She makes like she’s going to argue until Eren starts to sit up. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out with his other arm to grip her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mikasa. I’ll be fine.” She looks like she’s about to argue with him when he continues in a firmer voice. “I’m not letting this keep me down. Go and get yourself checked over. We need to get back out to the fight.” His face is hard and determined. 

I struggle not to roll my eyes at the staunch, nationalistic undertone to his words. I’ve been doing this so long I can smell this kind of rhetoric from a mile away, and I’ve never been able to understand it. When I joined the army, I joined out of necessity. A need to escape from poverty and direct proximity to crack cocaine. But there have always been kids like this around too, ones desperate to justify their bloodlust by politicising it. It’s only gotten worse since 2001. War’s no longer ugly or undesirable; rather, it’s a noble pursuit that keeps our country safe from the ever-present threat of terror that’s constantly being shoved down our throats by the government and news media. Every day I’m out here I grow more disillusioned with this concept, but maybe I’m just showing my age. We all have our own ways of coping with the things we see on tour. I try to cut the kids some slack, especially when their legs have been impaled with sharp pieces of metal. 

Mikasa still looks unconvinced, but Petra pulls at her uniform gently and tries to console her. 

“He’s in good hands with Doctor Ackerman. Let me have a look at you.” 

She concedes, but not before shooting me a last death glare. “You’d better take care of him.” I’ve been levelled with worse, so I shrug it off and start hunting for my scissors. These trouser legs need to come off. Petra manages to drag her to a free bed on the other side of the tent. Eren pulls himself up into a sitting position so he can watch her leave. This puppy love’s so adorable. Scissors in hand, I look Eren in the face. It takes a few seconds, but he manages to tear his gaze away from Mikasa. The hard look on his face is dissipating; he just looks tired, now. For a moment, I’m immobilised by this subtle display of exhaustion because I’m goddamn exhausted too. We hover in these uncharted waters for a moment, the feeling of mutual understanding so strong that it laps at both of our ankles like a high tide. But like any tide, it ebbs and flows, and as the waters ebb away, I’m pulled back to reality, where blood, sweat and grit rule my world. I’m comfortable here, I tell myself, and I’m in charge. 

“Okay, Eren. Let’s see what the damage is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1xfEzq59mxZ2oW8WgvkV70?si=KKLjVsYtQ7eGJz-17vOHQw) x 
> 
> It's very much the mood that inspired this, so feel free to pop a listen if ya wanna x


	2. Survivor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The best way to bond is always by sharing your wildest stories. 
> 
> tw: blood and pain associated with medical treatment, mentions of recreational alcohol and drug use

I start cutting at Eren’s trouser leg just above his knee joint. His thigh is intact - it’s the shin of his left leg that’s taken the most damage. The pieces of shrapnel are large and long, and it’s tricky to maneuver around them without bumping them. I nudge one jagged piece of stone particularly hard, and Eren hisses loudly. He’s sitting up remarkably still, but his fists are clenched so hard his knuckles are white. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Just…” he draws another deep breath, and it almost whistles between his gritted teeth. “Just hurry up.” He laughs a little, a small, winded laugh. “I need some drugs. This is sore as shit.” 

“We’re working with some really limited supplies here.” I respond. It’s true - a lot of our medications are being diverted elsewhere, to places where the conflict’s still hot. “I’m going to administer some local anaesthetic in a moment, but I need to be able to see where it’s going to be most effective.” At this point, I’m almost through peeling off Eren’s bloody trouser leg, and with each inch I pull away, I reveal worse injuries. The pieces of stone and metal I could see digging through his uniform’s fabric are embedded deeply in his leg, some so immovable they’re almost certainly stuck in bone. Skin that’s not packed full of stray shrapnel is covered in abrasions. It’s by no means the most severe injury I’ve seen on this tour, but damage like this is more often seen on dead bodies than it is on the living. Eren’s lucky that his leg that took the brunt of the blast, and not any other part of his body. Shrapnel damage like this to the abdomen almost always results in slow, painful death when it doesn’t happen near a well-equipped emergency room. Internal bleeding isn’t so easy to tidy up without cutting someone open, and with the risk of infection high operating out here, there’s often not much we can do. 

I’m pulling away the last of the fabric clinging onto Eren’s calf when I realise that perhaps he isn’t as lucky as I first thought. I swear under my breath. Eren’s eyes have been screwed shut for a few minutes, but he opens them quickly when he hears me mutter. There’s a wild look in them now - he’s on the precipice of panicking. I should have kept my mouth shut. 

“What is it?” His voice is strained, hitting a higher pitch than it was earlier. “Is it bad?” 

It’s pretty bad, I think, managing to keep this thought to myself. I lift the tattered remains of his trouser leg up slightly, obscuring the extent of the damage from his line of sight. On the inside of his calf, there’s a ten centimeter-long chunk of flesh missing. It’s cleaved away to the bone, and I can see significant tearing on the muscle. I know where I’m administering the little anaesthetic I’ve got. 

Eren’s squirming around, craning his body to try and get a better view of the damage. I’m trying my best to shield it from his view with the textile I’m still holding in my left hand. 

“Sit still, kid. There’s no use in you looking right now.” I use my most reassuring voice, which is curt at best. Comforting patients has never been my strong suit. “It’s not pretty, I’ll give you that.” I inspect the wound a little further. It’s full of sand, pieces of thread and metallic fragments. The whole leg’s looking more and more like an infection risk. Eren, to his credit, takes instruction well. He leans back on the bed’s frame and closes his eyes, sighing painedly. 

“I wish I was unconscious.” He opens one eye slightly. “Any chance you could just knock me out? You look like you could manage it in one punch.”

I chuckle. “Wish I could, kid.” At least he’s got a sense of humour. I reach around for my caddy and pull out a vial of anesthesia and a syringe. I unwrap it and draw the liquid out of the vial, giving it a light tap to dissipate any bubbles. “This should help you out a little. I’m going to administer this and then start digging out some of these larger pieces.” 

We sit in welcome silence for a few minutes. I spread the anaesthesia around his leg, focusing it around the gnarly wound on his calf. Give that a moment to take effect, sanitize my tweezers and his leg, and then get to work. I start with the largest pieces, careful not to cut myself on the jagged edges of each shard. The first one comes out surprisingly easily. The second piece is stuck in deep. I try not to jiggle it too much but it’s not easy, and blood oozes out around its edges as I work it out of his leg. Eren’s breathing becomes harsh and irregular and he lets out a string of incomprehensible curse words. 

“Does it still hurt?” Stupid question. Kid’s white as a sheet. He laughs a strained laugh. 

“It’s definitely not the most pleasant sensation I’ve ever experienced.” 

Sarcastic shit. “I’m working as quickly as possible.” I respond, giving the piece of shrapnel a hard tug. It comes free, blood spurting from the wound left behind. I press some gauze to it to try and stem the flow. Eren swears again, much more coherently this time. His hair’s drenched in sweat, and it drips down onto the front of his uniform. 

“This hurts like a bitch, you know?” He’s speaking through gritted teeth. “I need distracting. Talk to me.” 

The thought of knocking him out is becoming ever more appealing. “I’m not much of a talker.”

He laughs again, less weakly this time. “No shit. I literally don’t care right now.” I ignore him, but he presses on. “What state are you from? What’s your family like?” 

I stop yanking on the next piece of shrapnel for a moment to fix him with a deadpan glare. Not even Erwin can withstand these. “That’s personal shit I don’t share, kid.” To my surprise, he holds my gaze and stares back completely unperturbed, his brilliant green eyes shining with determination. He’s smirking a little now, which I’m not sure is an improvement on the pained grimace. He might even be laughing at me. 

“Anyone ever told you your bedside manner’s rubbish, Doctor Ackerman?” 

He’s definitely laughing at me. Little fucker. Like I’m letting that get to me. “You’re definitely not the first.” I get back to work, and that shuts him up for a second. The piece I’m pulling on is a nasty one - it curves down towards his ankle. Since so much of it is buried under skin, it’s hard to tell what angle to pull it from. I try easing it towards me. No luck. Looking at the rest of the leg, I’m likely going to be stuck here for at least another hour. And despite the amount of pain he’s in, Eren seems dead set on conversing with me. 

“So, if personal shit’s off the table, what about something surface level?” 

I sigh audibly in response, but it doesn’t put him off. He proceeds to launch a barrage of inane questions at me. 

“Come on dude, help me out here. Favourite colour? Favourite food?” He interrupts himself with a yelp as I pull another shard out of his leg. “Christ! Goddamn! Movie of the year? Last concert you went to before you were deployed? Give me something!”

Fuck this kid. He’s not going to stop until I talk. I begrudgingly decide to throw him a bone. 

“Red Hot Chilli Peppers.” 

He sits in stunned silence for a second. “What?” 

I frown at him. “You asked. Last concert I went to before I was deployed. Red Hot Chilli Peppers.” 

I don’t know what response I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He throws his head back and lets out a loud, mirthful laugh. I’m getting pissed off. It’s hot as hell, my armpits are sweating, and this kid is testing my patience. For a moment, I flirt with the idea of murdering him with one of the shrapnel pieces I’ve pulled out of his leg, but I decide Erwin would be less than pleased. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He’s literally wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s just.. I should have known! You’re one of those band t-shirt boys when you’re not in uniform, aren’t you? I bet your wardrobe’s full of flannels and you’ve got a Nirvana poster in your bedroom and you smoke cigarettes because you think it makes you look edgy.” The laughter is thankfully trailing off. 

“Get fucked.” This sobers him up a little. “I only own two flannel shirts.” And he’s set off again, giggling so hard his body’s shaking. I grip his thigh with my left hand to hold him still while I work with my right. This is the last time I ever attempt to interact with a patient. 

“Seriously, Doctor Ackerman, I’m sorry.” His laughter fades again, replaced this time by a more apologetic tone. “I’m no stranger to an edgy phase myself. In my last year of high school, I got into my mum’s eyeliner, locked myself up in my room and listened to Black Sabbath for months.”

I snort, despite myself. Eren takes it as encouragement. 

“So come on. I promise I won’t make fun of you. Tell me more about the concert.” I look up at him for a moment. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but mirth is still evident in his eyes. Blood and grit and sweat and cuts aside, he’s a good-looking kid. A bit of an asshole, but the more I look at him, the more inclined I feel to oblige him. 

“Fine.” I give in. “If it means you’ll shut up.” He grins a wide grin, brushing a few strands of wet hair from his face. I realise my left hand is still resting on his thigh. His warmth is radiating through my thin latex gloves. I slowly remove it, focusing my attention on his injured leg once again. My tweezers get working on a smaller piece of shrapnel embedded just under his knee. “It might surprise you, but I’m not the biggest Red Hot Chilli Peppers fan. I’m more of a Foo Fighters kind of guy.” This gets another laugh out of him, which I very pointedly ignore. “My best friend’s a huge fan, and she dragged me along.”

“And? Did it exceed expectations?”

“Honestly, I only saw about fifteen minutes of it. Spent most of the show outside.” I smoothe some disinfectant over an open cut, and Eren wriggles in discomfort. “Hold still.” 

“Was the concert that bad?” 

“I don’t really remember.” 

He chuckles. “Were you drunk, Doctor Ackerman? I can’t really imagine that.”

I smirk. Kid has no idea how much whiskey I can put away on a good day. “I was pretty buzzed. Before we got in, I had to take a piss and I got talking to the guy ahead of me in the toilet queue.” 

“So you talk to strangers in the line for the toilet but can’t bring yourself to hold a conversation with your patients?” 

Funny guy. “You’re being awful cheeky to someone who’s currently responsible for your wellbeing.” I pause for a minute, concentrating on an irregularly-shaped shard. “So this guy.. Tall, skinny white dude with long hair. He’s pretty friendly, and he ends up offering me some gear.” 

Eren gasps, a dramatic sound with a slightly sarcastic edge to it. “Doctor Ackerman! Drugs?” He laughs a little. “I’m shocked! Here I thought you were straight-edge!” 

This draws a laugh out of me as well. “You couldn’t be more wrong there, kid.” I think about mentioning Kenny for a second, which catches me by surprise. Nobody except for Erwin knows about Kenny. I’m halfway through my first conversation with this kid and I’m damn near becoming an extrovert. 

“What kind of gear did he give you?”

“A little E. So we each do a couple of lines off the back of a toilet seat, and head back out. Ten minutes later, I’m absolutely off my face.” 

Eren’s laughing again. His laugh doesn’t make me want to stab him anymore. I actually quite like it. I want to make him laugh more. This thought is unwelcome, and I try to push it back down to where it bubbled up from. 

“Had you taken E before?” He’s hanging on my every word. It seems to be distracting him quite well - I’m wiping away at the edges of the large wound on his inner calf and he’s not even flinching anymore.

“I’d taken it a couple of times, but I’ve never been so high in such a big crowd. Everything was just so… loud.” I lean back for a moment to inspect my progress. The blood is starting to coagulate on some of his smaller cuts, which is a good sign. The leg is looking markedly better than it did when I got started, but I’m still worried about the largest of the wounds. A couple of gashes will need stitches. “I was chewing like crazy. The friend I turned up with was less than impressed. I couldn’t sit still, and all I wanted to do was overshare with my new friend from the toilet queue, so we skipped out and sat outside for the rest of the show. I’ve never spoken so much in my life.” I steal a glance at Eren. His head’s cocked slightly, a wide smile on his face. It’s too bright. Fuck. I look away again quickly. 

“Me and the guy from the toilet queue became best friends. We told each other our deepest darkest secrets and smoked through two packs of menthol Pall Malls.” 

He lets out another bark of laughter. “Menthol? Seriously? That’s gross, man.” 

I smile. “Right? You’ve gotta be high as fuck to enjoy that shit.” 

“So what’s Mr. Toilet Queue called? You guys still in touch?” 

“I don’t even remember his name.” 

Eren cracks up again. The conversation’s flowing naturally. It’s a little disconcerting that a kid I’ve probably got about ten years on is responding better to my sardonic manner than the majority of the world’s population. And he certainly doesn’t seem mature for his age. I take a moment to question my life choices thus far before continuing to try and impress him. 

“Mr. Toilet Queue seems to suit him pretty well. He was a bit of a hot mess, to be honest.”

“Absolute shocker!” Eren interjects. “A guy handing out free drugs to strangers at a concert that doesn’t have his life together? It’s unheard of.”

That gets a laugh out of me. “That’s a good point. I wonder what he’s up to now. I still think about him sometimes when I’m lining up for the latrine out here.” 

“If only he was deployed with us. I could do with a bump right now.” 

I raise a brow at him. “You’re talking enough shit without drugs, kid.” He flashes his teeth at me in response. “What about you? What was your last concert?” 

Treating Eren’s leg takes two and a half hours. My back aches by the end, and my eyes are stinging from straining to see in the dim evening lighting, but I’ve done a fucking impeccable job. It’s free of pieces of shrapnel, and I’ve stitched some of the larger gashes up and applied surgical tape to some of his smaller cuts. Infection is still a distinct possibility, but Eren’s young and we still have a small amount of antibiotics left in the cool store, so he should be in with a fighting chance. And he exudes such a strong sense of vitality that he’s almost got me convinced he’s indestructible. 

We talk the entire time I’m treating him. He tells me all about his last concert, and we decide that someone with as much of a penchant for Destiny’s Child as he has doesn’t have any right to make fun of my reverence for grunge music. We talk about movies, books, fast food. Everything and nothing at all. My jaw hurts by the time I’m finished up, but in the satisfying way a muscle aches after a good stretch. It feels good. Fun is a precious commodity on tour, but the more I digest our conversation as I scrub down, the more I come to terms with the fact that I may have actually just enjoyed a session with a patient. Wow! Grumpy old Levi can be a good time? I should tell Erwin. He’ll probably be so impressed he’ll offer me a raise. 

It’s evening now, and the tent is cooling down. Our rush has been and gone, leaving only a few new patients in its wake. I think Erwin lost his patient - he’s nowhere to be seen, and Mike is bandaging up a woman in another bed. A twinge of guilt runs through me. Erwin doesn’t handle deaths very well due to his perfectionist nature. I know this so well that I would have checked in with him if I’d been less distracted. I glance around for anyone who isn’t busy, and spot Petra heading my way. She looks exhausted, but she gives me a bleary-eyed smile.  
“Hey.” I like the way Petra talks. She has a soft, soothing voice I could seriously fall asleep to. Sometimes I start conversations with her just to calm me down after a stressful day. “Erwin’s headed off for the night.”

“Did his patient die?” I ask. I try to match her volume so that nearby patients don’t hear our conversation. No need for them to relive it before bedtime. 

She sighs. “Yeah, and he’s pretty cut up. You know how he gets. He was saying something about pinching one of your cigarettes before he left.”

“God, he must be bad.” 

She gives me a sympathetic look and starts to scrub down. “Your patient okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s alright.” Her mention of a cigarette has my fingers itching. I clasp my hands in front of me and stretch my arms, trying to rid myself of the feeling. “His leg is pretty wrecked. I don’t think he’ll be walking for a few weeks, but he seems to be in good spirits.” 

Petra glances at me with this little smirk. I’ve worked with her long enough to understand what this expression means. It’s the “I know something you don’t” face. She looks at Erwin and I like this often when we catch up outside the tent, and it annoys me to no end. I’ve asked Erwin about it and he denies any knowledge, but the two of them sometimes talk in hushed tones and stop whenever I walk into the room. For a while I’ve wondered if there’s something going on between them, but Petra has a fiancee in another regiment. As a person whose ability to understand the complex inner workings of people has always been fatally low, I’ve decided to let all of this slide. But Erwin isn’t even around right now and Petra’s still looking at me funny. I’m not going to stand for it. 

“What?” 

She looks back down at her hands. “Nothing.” There’s a pause in which I stare daggers at her, trying to will answers out of her with the intensity of my glare. It surprisingly works. “It’s just…” she laughs a little. “You guys seemed to get along really well.” 

I shrug. “I guess.” It feels a little awkward now that I’m saying it out loud. I don’t think I’ve ever said anything positive about a patient unless they were out cold. “He’s an okay guy.” 

Petra’s fully grinning now. “Such high praise!” She raises her brows a few times at me in a suggestive manner that I find truly disgusting. “And he’s so good-looking as well, isn’t he?”

Suddenly I’m sweating again, but I play it cool. “Perving on the patients are we, Petra? That’s a bit unethical.” 

Her grin gets even wider. “I wasn’t talking about me.” 

Nope. I refuse to have this conversation. I scan the tent and the depths of my frontal lobe for any other topic. Thankfully, one dangles in front of me in the form of an empty bed. 

“The Asian girl. What was it? Mikasa? Where is she?” 

Petra looks like she desperately wants to continue pressing me, but I eventually win this silent battle of wits. She answers me as she starts drying her hands off. 

“She’s fine. I gave her a thorough checkover. She had some light abrasions on her face and forearms, but that was about it. I sent her off about a little more than an hour ago, but I said she can come back tomorrow and see your boy.” 

The way she uses “your boy” feels loaded, but I decide to let it slide. 

“She’s very attached to him.” Petra’s glancing off in Eren’s direction now. I refuse to follow her gaze for fear of exacerbating her teasing. “She seemed very anxious to be separated from him tonight, but I told her he’ll need to rest. They must have gone through a lot together.” She’s chewing on a hangnail again, suddenly lost in this thought. 

I think of the way that Eren looked at her as Petra pulled her away earlier, and nod. Thinking about it makes my stomach clench. Both of them know loss and hardship, and they cling to each other like a life raft. I know this because it’s exactly how I cling to Erwin, and to Hange. But neither of them need me in the same way that I need them. They’re fiercely self-sufficient people with privileged backgrounds who haven’t seen half of the shit that I have. I’m grateful for both of them, but it can be lonely sometimes. Eren and Mikasa seem to have something more mutual than my desperate dependence on the only people in the world who understand me. Thinking about this makes me jealous, but it also gives me a flash of hope. I don’t make friends easily, but talking to Eren today was a welcome reminder that there are people out there who aren’t put off by my cold exterior. The situation isn’t ideal, but maybe if we had met at another place, in another time, we could have been close.

I reluctantly look over at Eren’s bed. He’s fast asleep on his back with one arm raised above his head. His face tilts towards us slightly. He looks at peace. I wonder what he’s dreaming about. 

Fuck it. Enough soul searching. I’m out for a smoke.


	3. Glory Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: yucky medical stuff

It’s 5:34am, and I’m currently occupied with pushing a small amount of gruel around in my bowl in the mess hall. When I say mess hall I mean abandoned concrete building on the outskirts of Afghanistan’s Nangarhār province that we’ve adapted for our purposes. I think this was a community centre - there’s a stage to my right, and dusty seating stacked up in the corners, but all of the other furnishings have been cleared out except for a few tattered posters advertising events which must be long-cancelled by now. Dusky dawn light floods in around us through curtainless windows. The centre of the room is dominated by collapsible trestles, and there are a few soldiers eating their fill after finishing up with the night watch. They’re clustered around the opposite end of the table from me, talking in hushed voices. Being avoided by the rest of my regiment isn’t something I’m unused to, but for once it’s nothing personal. Soldiers usually give our medical team a wide berth. I think it’s a superstition thing - most people don’t even like to visit their injured friends in our tent for fear of somehow bringing on an injury at the next conflict. This suits me completely fine, but I know some of the others get lonely. Erwin’s so friendly, he’s pretty much a labrador. He needs conversation to survive. 

This pulls me back into mulling over my recent foray into extroversion. Yesterday was such a trip, I spent the whole night tossing and turning in my bunk over it. Petra’s teasing lilt bounced around in my brain like a hellish game of ping pong. But even worse than that was the kid’s face. Eren laughing, grimacing, wiping sweat from his forehead. I can’t deny that I think he’s good-looking. Attraction to men is nothing new to me - I’ve been pretty confident in my bisexuality since I was a teenager. But it’s not often that a crush hits me harder than a stack of bricks. Usually my interest in men or women is purely physical, but with Eren it’s his personality that really shines through. He’s a cheeky fucker who isn’t afraid to tease me. He’s good-looking, but I actually think I like him.

I like him. 

Ugh. I stab at my gruel with my spoon in frustration. What am I doing with my life? Mooning over some dumb kid I met less than twelve hours ago while people are literally dying out here. Maybe I’ve finally lost it. I try to reason with myself. He’s so far out of my league, he gives off big straight vibes, and he has a girlfriend who looks at him like he’s a literal god. I finally pluck up the gall to finish the last of my flavourless breakfast, and with it swallow down the determination to suppress this crush. It’s probably just the sex deprivation that’s getting to my head. 

I’m brainstorming possible private places to jerk off nearby when Erwin sits down next to me, his own bowl of grey matter in hand. I eye him cautiously, searching for any clues that might indicate his current mood. He’s a blank slate, as usual. Shit. I’m going to have to go verbal. 

“How’re you?” It comes out stilted and awkward. You’d think that by age twenty-nine I would have developed the ability to talk about feelings, but as it stands, I’m apparently still only about two thirds of a functioning human being. 

Erwin smiles. “I’m fine. How are you?” Fuck. He’s making me work for this. 

“I’m okay.” I search for my pouch in my pockets, a nervous tic of mine that only gets worse with age. “I mean.. Shit.” I spill my filters on the floor. Erwin chuckles, basking in my discomfort. “Petra said you were in a bad way yesterday.” I also heard him crying in his bunk, but I’m not going to bring that up. 

He sighs. I attempt to rescue some of the floor filters, but they’re so filthy I end up dropping them in my empty bowl with a grimace. I wipe my hands on my pants and they leave grey prints. Erwin stays silent for so long I think I’m going to have to try and press further, but thankfully he starts talking just before I open my mouth. 

“That guy would have survived if I had better equipment, a proper operating room.” 

The whole medical team can relate to this. “We’re doing the best with what we’ve got out here. We give everyone a better chance just by trying.” That sounds pretty comforting, actually. I’m quite pleased with myself. 

He gives me a weary smile. Sometimes he looks at me with such warmth that I don’t really know how to respond. Maybe this is how loving parents look at their children. I look away quickly, busying myself with rolling a cigarette. “Besides, these kids would have a much better survival rate if they didn’t enlist themselves in the first place.” 

Erwin laughs at that. This breaks up the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Always such a cynic, Levi.” He puts his empty bowl on top of mine. “Come on. Let’s head to work.” 

Ten minutes and two rushed cigarettes later, I’m back in the tent doing first rounds, desperately avoiding looking in Eren’s direction. I glanced over when I came in and spotted Mikasa sitting next to him on his bed, the two of them deep in conversation. At first I consider waiting until it’s past seven so she’s headed off to drills and I don’t have to deal with her unpleasant vibes, but then I decide it’s better that I’m not alone with Eren. It’s integral that I avoid having gratifying conversations with him at all costs. I change dressings on two other patients, and reach the foot of Eren’s bed by 6:32. 

There was a dim light of hope that my attraction to the kid was a hallucination resulting from years of mounting sleep deprivation. This is instantly extinguished when I look at him. He’s positively interstellar. The dressing on his head is making his hair sit funny, but it doesn’t detract from the overall picture. He’s grinning at me, showing off just how perfect his teeth are. My stomach lurches in the most horrendous way. Words swirl in front of my eyes as I try to find something cool to say. 

“Morning, kid.” There we go. Very casual. Very there’s absolutely no way I spent the entirety of last night and what little we’ve had of the morning thinking about you. 

He shoots me a little wave, and Mikasa sends a welcoming death glare my way from his right side. “Hey doc!” He waggles his injured leg at me. “Come to have a geeze at the old war wound?” 

This soothes my nerves somewhat. Eren may be hot, but he exudes major dork energy. I chuckle a little as I sit down next to him, pulling on some clean gloves. “How are you so energetic so early in the morning?” 

“They’ve got me hopped up on coffee. At least..” he gestures toward an empty cup at his side, “Petra said it was coffee.”

“It’s most certainly not coffee.” I start unwrapping the bandage around his leg. “Nobody knows what it is. I’ve told her to stop serving it to patients.” 

“Oh.” Eren shrugs. “To be fair, I’ve had worse from Starbucks.” 

Please stop being charming and funny, I beg him silently as I inspect the wounds I cleaned up yesterday. They look good. There’s some swelling around some spots I stitched up, and a little crusting blood, but no signs of infection yet. Hopefully we can keep it that way. “It’s holding up pretty well. I’ll give it a clean and change your dressing. How’s the pain?” 

“In all honesty, it hurts like a motherfucker.”

I smirk. Mikasa makes a disapproving noise. Eren elaborates further on his condition. 

“I can’t rest any weight on it at all. I had to use the toilet this morning and all Petra could give me were these shitty crutches.” Leaning against the bed head are a rickety pair of crutches that look like they’re straight out of a museum’s collection. One day I’d like to meet the person who made the decision that we should take these out on tour, and give them a punch in the face. “I think the left one’s broken, and it took me so long to get outside that I couldn’t make it to the latrine. I had to piss behind the tent standing on one leg.” 

This makes me laugh. Eren admonishes me. “Don’t laugh!” He says this in a way that makes it clear he would like me to keep laughing. “A couple of guys from the 105th saw my dick. It was really embarrassing. They laughed at me so hard that I almost pissed on my foot.”

“That’s terrible.” 

“Why do I feel like you don’t really mean that, you dickhead?” He has a twinkle in his eye as he looks at me. Mikasa tuts again. 

“You shouldn’t be so crass, Eren.” 

He elbows her gently. “I’ve got nothing on Doctor Ackerman. You should hear some of the stuff he was telling me yesterday.”

She looks at me like I’m a steaming pile of dogshit. “I don’t think I want to.” She stands up slowly, reluctantly relinquishing her hold on Eren’s hand. “I’ve got to go. I need to eat something before drills.” She leans in to kiss him on the cheek and whisper something in his ear. I very pointedly focus on Eren’s leg, not looking up until I hear her footsteps fade. Eren’s watching her walk away again. For a moment, I wonder if anyone’s ever looked at me like that. I imagine Eren directing those eyes at me.

“Your girlfriend’s a bit overbearing.” I need to say something to distract the lovesick teenager currently renting out space in my brain. Eren looks at me with a frown. 

“Huh? Mikasa?” Disgust creeps over his features. “Dude, no. She’s my sister.”

His sister. 

“Oh.” I say, rather lamely. “You don’t look alike.” 

“She’s adopted.” 

His adopted sister. It all falls into place now. The strong sense of shared trauma that hangs between them like thread. It’s familial. Of course a familial bond would make me jealous - I’ve never really had one. This thought makes me somber. I pick away at pieces of grit I missed in yesterday’s dim light, trying to stay present. Eren also appears lost in thought.

“She’s everything to me. I love her dearly, but she’s always been really protective.” He shifts tone a little, back to his earlier joking timbre. “It’s always made dating a nightmare.”

I smile at him. “I can imagine.” 

Eren grins back. The mood’s lightening up again. I attempt to further the conversation. 

“It’s pretty unusual for siblings to sign up together. Shouldn’t the two of you be in college?” 

I know I’ve said the wrong thing instantly. The air grows icy around us. Eren takes in a sharp breath. I look him in the face, and for a moment, I don’t recognise him. His eyes are intense, burning a hole right through me. 

“College wasn’t an option for us.” He says this flatly. “We had no choice. We’re proud to serve to protect our country.”

That’s right. He said something like this yesterday too. It’s more jarring to hear now that I know him better. I can’t reconcile this rhetoric with the friendly, good-humoured man I was talking to two minutes ago. I suppose I don’t really know him so well after all. This could provide a solution to my having feelings for Eren situation, I think to myself. Press him on this, write him off as an immature, nationalistic warmonger, have a wank later to release my pent-up tension, and move the fuck on. But in a surprising development in my internal monologue, I realise I don’t really want to. Friends come few and far between for assholes like me, and attraction aside, I genuinely think the two of us get along. At this point in time, I need positive interactions more than I need to cling to moral judgements about other people. So I decide to take the high road, and agree to disagree. I let it go. 

“Fair enough.” I lean forward to inspect the wound on his forehead, which works to break him out of his jingoistic trance. My face hovers close to his as I unwrap the dressing from around his hair. I make out cracks in his lips and light stubble on his chin. “So, last night, I was wondering...”

He stares up at me, searching my face for my next words. For a moment, I think I see his eyes flicker towards my lips, and linger there. But I must have been imagining it. 

“What do you think of Portishead?” 

Eren doesn’t miss a beat. He cracks a wide, gorgeous grin. “Ultimate sad boy music.”

* * *

The next two days go by without a hitch. No casualties, no injuries. Erwin tells me the higher-ups are talking about splitting the regiment up and shifting toward more active conflict, but these talks take forever and require endless sign offs before anything actually happens. We can expect to sit pretty here for a little while yet, which I’m perfectly happy with. We have too many amputees to make shifting an easy feat, and to be honest, I’ve seen enough disturbing shit already this tour. The further away we are from red zones, the happier I’ll be. This is not a thought I voice for fear of coming across as unpatriotic, but I’m sure it’s not uncommon amongst the troops. We’ve been out here for more than three months now, and a heady malaise is starting to settle over us like storm clouds gathering. Home soil feels so far away. I physically ache for fucking french fries. How American is that? When I worked at McDonald’s as a teenager, the thought of our menu food literally made me sick. Now, I wouldn’t hesitate to scrap for it. 

I voice this thought to Eren on his third day in recovery, and he enthusiastically agrees. 

“It’s chicken nuggets for me.” The forehead dressing has come off now, and his wound there is healing nicely. He’s scraping his unruly hair back as we speak. “I’d shank someone, Levi. I’m not even joking.” We’re on first name basis now. It’s pretty adorable. 

This kid is currently my saving grace. There’s nothing like a chat with him to distract me from my pessimistic musings. By avoiding war-related topics at all costs, I’m managing to build up a pretty solid friendship with him. Currently he’s not even being treated - I’m between rounds with nothing else to do, so I’m putting off heading out for my smoke break to talk shit with him for a few minutes. I can see Petra giving me the eye from the other end of the tent, but I try to ignore it. Everyone else gets friendly with patients! Erwin is currently playing cards with one-eye Anderson, but he doesn’t get leered at by her. It’s especially irritating because I know she’s onto me. My secret ulterior motive in getting friendly with this particular patient is checking him out from a close vantage point. It’s so hot he’s undone a few buttons of the fresh uniform shirt I gave him yesterday, revealing tanned skin and a few dark chest hairs. It’s literally killing me not to stare. Using what little willpower I have, I fight to keep my eyes trained on his face as he rambles on about chicken nuggets. 

Inspecting him so closely, I notice Eren doesn’t look quite right. He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and even in this dim lighting I can see that he’s a little pale. I reach for my thermometer and pull some plastic over it before shoving it in his face, cutting him off.

“What’s this?”

I snort. “A thermometer, you fuckwit.” 

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can see that. You’ve finished rounds. Why are you taking my temperature? I’m fine.” There’s something defensive about his response that makes me suspicious. 

“You don’t look so good.” This is objectively a lie. “You’re sweating. Are you in pain?” 

“Levi, it’s like one million degrees.” 

I muster up my most authoritative voice. “Shut up and open your mouth.”

He’s hesitant, but he concedes, realising he has no way out. We wait in silence until the thermometer beeps. I pull it out of his mouth and look at the little screen. Electronic numbers flash at me. 

“99.6 degrees.” I glance up at him. Eren looks sheepish. “That’s quite high.”

“I think it’s the coffee.” He scratches his head nervously. “It makes my heart beat like crazy as well.”

“I’ve told you to stop drinking that shit, kid.” I check the stats hanging on the end of his bed. His temperature was a little lower this morning when Erwin changed his dressing. According to his notes, Eren's leg was looking slightly inflamed, but nothing to suggest a cause for concern. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me, and I resolve to check his temperature every two hours. 

The next day, my worst fears are finally confirmed. Eren’s vomiting when I come in, heaving up bile into a bowl Eld is holding up for him. He’s shaking, and he looks green. I throw my gloves on, and unwrap the dressing around his leg. The first thing I notice is the smell. I try hard to suppress a gag when I look at his leg. Infection’s so disgusting. It’s the wound on his inner calf - it’s oozed thick, yellow pus and plasma all over the bandages. It’s grown too, the edges of it scabbing and festering up towards his knee. Eld, Eren and I all stare at it for a moment. Eren’s the first to speak, still sounding weak from his bout of throwing up. 

“That’s not good, is it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Eren, it's not good!


	4. Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only got a fashion degree so my medical descriptions may be somewhat inaccurate! 
> 
> tw: yucky medical stuff, discussions of amputation, mentions of terrorism

I’m stress-smoking outside when Erwin arrives. It’s still before seven - soldiers haven’t started their drills yet, so it’s quiet out. It’s almost too calm at this time of day, especially when I’m desperately searching for a distraction from my pumping adrenaline. Erwin, of course, catches my vibe instantly. He comes over to me, brow furrowed in concern. 

“Has something happened?” 

I take a deep drag. “It’s Eren’s leg. It’s really infected.” 

Erwin’s face relaxes a little. “Oh.” One of my papers is blowing around on the ground. He catches it with the point of his toe and pushes it around. “Have you given him antibiotics?”

“Yep.” I hooked him up to a drip immediately, and cleaned his leg again. I also drew around the infected portion with a black marker so that I could track any spread. “I don’t know how well they’ll work. It’s one of the worst infections I’ve seen.” 

“You know this isn’t unlikely to happen with shrapnel wounds, Levi.” 

I know, I want to say. It doesn’t come out. I’m really fucking stressed about this for someone that’s seen many an infected limb. This is my fourth cigarette, and my tongue’s starting to burn. Erwin’s words, which usually soothe my battered soul, are also getting under my skin. There’s something about his tone that I don’t like, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. 

“I know that, Erwin. It’s just…” What is it? That Eren’s lovely? I can hardly say this out loud. “Eren’s just so young.” 

“He’s older than you were when you were in the accident.”

I stare at him, gobsmacked. Where does he get off bringing that shit up now? I think he knows he’s crossed a line when he starts speaking again quickly. 

“Sorry, Levi.” He looks it as well, rubbing his eyes wearily. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just worried that you’re getting a little too close to this case.” I blow cigarette smoke at him in response, an attempt to shut him up, but he keeps going. “I think it’s great that you and Eren are getting along so well, but just be careful that this doesn’t impact your judgement.” 

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” I scoff at him. Where does this guy get off telling me not to get too close to cases? He has a legitimate breakdown every time one of his patients dies, he’s really not one to talk. 

Erwin sighs. “I just worry about you, Levi. I wish you’d confide in me more.” He hesitates for a second. “I wish…” There’s a pregnant pause before he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Never mind. I trust you to make the right decisions.” He straightens up, flexes his shoulders. Business Erwin is back. All signs of tiredness have left his face when he looks at me again. “Can we put this past us and work together professionally today?” 

What the hell was all that about? I shrug a little awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. “Sure. If I can have another cigarette before I come back in, all will be forgotten.”

He smiles that funny warm smile of his before he heads into the tent. 

I’m on tenterhooks for the rest of the day. Eren’s now the team’s top priority case, and we swarm around him like vultures around a corpse. I shake my head to rid myself of this unfortunate analogy. Eren’s very much alive, but he’s not in a good way. He spends much of the morning throwing up bile. In the afternoon, he gets a little better, but he’s still shivering despite the ever-present heat of the tent. I find a spare blanket in our supply cabinet and wrap it around his shoulders. 

“How are you feeling?” He’s staring down at his lap, hands clenched together tightly. He peers at me out of the corner of his eye, through a curtain of damp hair. He reminds me of the stray dog that used to hang around Kenny’s apartment when I was a kid. 

“Not so good.” A verbal response is a good sign. I cling to this glimmer of positivity. 

“You knew something wasn’t right yesterday, didn’t you?” 

He doesn’t answer me. I brush the hair off his face and put a hand on his shoulder. It radiates heat. He raises his head slowly, and leans it back on the bed frame, locking eyes with me the whole time. His eyes are dull and blurry, but he’s definitely able to focus on my face. 

“Hmmm. Yeah.” He swallows thickly. “Can I have some water?”

I pass him my own flask. “Why didn’t you say anything? This should have been treated sooner.”

He takes a few gulps. Water trickles down his chin, and he wipes it with the back of his hand. His stubble’s getting longer - I can hear it scratch against his skin. “I don’t know. I think I was in denial.” 

I laugh, despite myself. “That’s really not how medicine works, you know? You can’t just wish yourself healthy.” He gives me a weary smile in return. 

“I know. Sorry, I was being stupid.” He sighs, a heart-wrenching expression of pain and exhaustion that cuts into me like a scalpel. “I’m always like this. I’m such a narcissist I think my sheer willpower and determination is enough to solve any problem.” 

“It’s an admirable trait.” I surprise both of us by saying something pleasant. “Maybe not in this case… but I wish I was a little more like you sometimes. It’s good to have confidence in yourself.” 

He touches my hand lightly. His fingertips are hot and damp, but I don’t pull away. Usually touching and being touched is something I try to avoid at all costs. My love language can be eloquently described as “stay the fuck away from me or I’ll hurt you”. This isn’t eliciting the usual response. Instead, my pulse starts racing. I can’t move. All I can do is stare into Eren’s eyes. Fuck, they’re green. 

“Thank you, Levi.” He’s looking at me like Erwin does. I realise I don’t mind this look on him. It’s just about setting me on fire. I feel an urge to grab his hand and hold it tightly, but I resist for fear of interrupting this moment. “It’s strange. You’re truly such an asshole, but you always know the right thing to say.” 

This is certainly the first time anyone’s ever said this to me. I’m floored. I express this to Eren, and it makes him laugh hard. Good. A flash of his healthy self. Unfortunately, this is interrupted by a bout of vomiting which deeply concerns me. I check his leg again. The wound is only growing larger. I look over at Erwin, and I can just about read his mind. CUT IT OFF may as well be written on his forehead in marker. I know he’s right. I also know he’s right about me being far too close to this case. The thought of amputating Eren’s leg physically hurts. It’s such a nice leg. 

I decide to defer to Erwin since I don’t possess the strength to break this to Eren. He comes over and inspects the wound closely. I’m internally screaming at him to hurry up and wrap it. It fucking reeks. 

“The infection’s really spreading, Eren.” He says this like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world. The wound’s eaten up almost all of the pen I drew around it this morning. “I think we are going to have to start considering amputation.” 

Fuck. I’ve said this to countless soldiers and even formed a categorical system for their responses. There are three common types: the crier, the stony-faced accepter, and the arguer. Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets on which of these Eren Jaeger will be. He’s positively bristling, all energy that has been sapped by his infection instantly re-entering his body. It’s actually quite intimidating - I’m glad I passed this job onto Erwin. 

“No. That’s not an option for me.” He almost shouts. Erwin sits down next to Eren and attempts to work his good bedside manner magic. I swear he should have been a counsellor, the guy’s so impressive. 

“Look, Eren.” What a dad. “Your infection is spreading rapidly. If we leave it much longer you’re at real risk.” Eren’s clearly not having it if his expression’s anything to go by. He looks like he might punch Erwin. Erwin pushes on unperturbed. “Amputation is scary, but prosthetic technology has come far. You can live a fulfilling, normal life without a leg. If we get this early, we’ll only need to cut below the knee, which shouldn’t be too much of an adjustment.”

Eren laughs humorlessly. “Not too much of an adjustment? Have you lost a leg recently, Doctor Smith?” 

He has a point there. Erwin doesn’t let it derail him. 

“No, I haven’t, but I have seen many soldiers through the rehabilitation process.” 

“Well, I don’t want to be one of those soldiers.” Eren says this like it’s final. “Surely there’s something else you can do. Give me more antibiotics.”

“Our antibiotics are strictly rationed. The more we give you, the less we will have for other people. It’s a waste if they aren’t working.”

Eren’s desperately searching for more arguments to haul at Erwin. “Well, maybe they just need more time to work! It’s not been long since Levi put me on the drip.”

“It’s been six hours.” Erwin’s speaking softly, but every syllable is laden with finality. Hope’s draining away from Eren’s face. He’s growing paler by the second. 

“Give me more time! Please!” Tears are welling up in his eyes. My gut wrenches. This is hard to watch. “Please! If I lose my leg I can’t serve!”

“You can’t participate in active service, but you don’t have to leave the army.” Erwin gestures at me. “Levi was a soldier, but after he had an accident he retrained.”

Eren’s eyes flicker towards me for a moment like he’s only just remembered I’m here. He looks down at my bad leg, and then up at my face again. Fuck Erwin. He’s brought up my accident twice today even though he knows my capacity for talking about it is low. I can usually only handle around one conversation per year, and even that requires me to be plied with copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. Suddenly there’s pressure on me to affirm his statement, so I try to say something without giving away how uncomfortable this topic makes me. 

“Yep.” I keep it short and sweet. “I limp a bit, but I’m still here.” Drop in a flippant remark to mask how traumatised I remain by this. “Fucking wish I wasn’t though.” Eren doesn’t even laugh. Tough crowd. He looks back at Erwin and continues his fruitless arguing. 

“I don’t want to retrain. I have to fight.” There it is again - that chilling look I thought I’d seen the back of the last few days. Why is he so stuck on this? Why does he seem desperate to kill and maim and injure? It freaks me out. 

Erwin’s checking out of the conversation. “That might not be an option anymore.” He stands up. “I’ll give you another hour before I check in again.” The implication is clear. If the leg hasn’t improved in an hour, it’s coming off. Eren looks absolutely devastated. And thanks to Erwin’s references to my accident, I’m having flashbacks to when that was me. It was a proper bed at base inside a proper building, and it was winter, but I’m sure that was exactly how I looked when Erwin told me my body was fucked for life. And that my friends were dead. I feel sick. I need a cigarette. I’m about to head when Eren grabs my arm, holding me back. It hurts a little. His knuckles are white. 

“Levi, wait.” He’s fighting some kind of internal battle right now. I stay quiet, letting him find the words to express what’s going on in his head. 

“My mom died.”

Whatever I was expecting him to say, this wasn’t it. This isn’t remotely leg-related. Is his life flashing before his eyes? I realise this is the sort of statement people usually respond to, and try to string a sentence together. 

“That’s awful, Eren.” God. Apparently today is the day that every single traumatic life experience of mine decides to try and dig their way out of the recesses of my mind. Mom. Dead. Images swim behind my eyeballs. Eren has to start talking again. I need a distraction. 

His grip on my arm loosens slightly. “No, that’s… not it. I mean, she was on the 29th floor.” 

I stare at him for a moment, trying to make sense of this statement. He looks like he wants to expand, but can’t quite bring himself to. Suddenly, the penny drops. 

The 29th floor. Of the World Trade Centre?

Oh my god. “On September 11th?” 

He nods, eyes wide. I wrap my head around this. The puzzle pieces all begin to fall into place. 

“She died. And my dad… he just lost it. He stopped cooking meals, stopped talking, stopped cleaning. One day he just stopped coming home. We still don’t know where he is. I think he’s at the bottom of a river somewhere.” This pours out of him in a rush, like he’s been waiting to tell someone forever. 

“Fuck, Eren. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” It’s true. To lose someone so suddenly, so out of the blue. I knew my mom was dying, and I watched it happen. And I had a lot of time to get used to the fact that she was dead when nobody came for me. Nobody cared that the son of a crack addict wasn’t turning up to school. I sat next to her body for three weeks before Kenny showed up. 

Eren keeps talking. He’s shaking, and I don’t think this is a result of his infection. “I need my leg, Levi. I need to fight in this war. What I went through.. Terrorism messed my family up. It messed my life up, and Mikasa’s. I don’t ever want anyone to go through that ever again.” The tears in his eyes finally fall. Harsh sobs wrack through his body. I want to hold him so much, but I settle for placing my hand over his and squeezing. I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I can say. 

“Please help me. Please at least give me a bit more time, even just a day.”

I’m caving. Or I’ve already caved. But I need to put up a show of resistance. “Eren, if the infection spreads to your bloodstream, you die. The sooner we amputate, the better.”

He wipes his tears away with his free hand. His eyes are red and bloodshot. “I’m begging you, Levi. We’re friends, right? I just… I feel like you get me. Like we’re similar.” He feels like I get him. Despite the heavy nature of our conversation, this makes me feel light as air. I put a hand on his head, ruffling his damp hair. 

“Yeah, I get you. I’ll see what I can do.” He smiles up at me and my heart does some fucked up shit. He could talk me into anything at this point.

I tell Erwin I’m giving Eren one more round of antibiotics, and putting off the final decision about his leg tomorrow. He’s not happy about it. He gives me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. We’ve never fought before, and it makes me uncomfortable. I know it’s my fault, but I’m not backing down. It’s wishful thinking on my part - the chances of Eren’s leg getting better are slim at this point. I just can’t say no to him.

My crush is threatening to turn into a full-blown obsession. Eren’s revelation about his mom has explained away the only real misgiving I had about him. His need to fight in this war doesn’t seem to be about politics or nationalistic pride, but rather a response to loss. I still don’t agree that it’s the best coping mechanism, but who am I to talk? I have similarly self-destructive tendencies. It’s so messed up, but it actually feels good to know that there’s someone else out there who’s fucked up like me.

This makes cutting his leg off the next day so much harder. We bring him into the makeshift operating room at the far end of the tent, put him under, and get to work. It’s a clean cut right below his knee joint - some of my best work. I almost cry afterwards.


	5. Lost Ones

The day feels like it’s going in slow motion. From the moment I cut into Eren’s leg earlier, the clock’s been moving at a painful pace. I feel like I’m stuck in a warp waiting for him to come out from under the general anaesthetic we’ve dosed him with. Thank god for Erwin’s careful rationing - I couldn’t imagine having to do it while he was awake. The kid was subdued before the procedure, quietly accepting his fate, but I have no idea what he’ll be like when he wakes up. I’m afraid he’ll be resentful. I don’t know how I’d handle that. The anticipation is killing me. I trudge around the tent in my heavy boots, snapping at patients as I do my rounds. Erwin notices my increasingly foul mood and sends me for a time out. 

For once, I don’t stand in my spot by the tent as I smoke. Instead, I walk past the latrine, past the mess hall, towards the very edge of our encampment. Piles of sandbags topped with large coils of barbed wire mark the border of our occupied space. I follow the makeshift fencing for a few paces. It’s a beautiful evening. For once, it’s not too hot. Thin, wispy strips of cloud surround the sun, casting shadows over the encampment. There’s a fresh smell in the air. I peer through the barbed wire, searching for signs of life in the township sprawling over the gentle hillsides surrounding us. Last I’d heard, there were still locals around, but I see nothing but empty homes and unkempt gardens as I survey the landscape. It’s eerie. I wonder how many towns around the country have been evacuated, how many houses are sitting empty because of our presence here. Some of the other soldiers take advantage and loot when they’re out on exercises. I know I’m bound by a code of ethics as a doctor, but if given the chance, I’d let fuckers like this die in a heartbeat. 

Movement to my left catches my eye, a small brown smudge. For a moment I think it’s a trick of the light. I crane my neck to get a better view. It’s a dog. Looks like a stray. It’s coming closer to the border fence, sniffing the air as it walks. I stub my cigarette out on the sandbag in front of me, and start digging around in my pockets. Surely I’ve got something to give it. I pull out a half-eaten muesli bar, the remnants of the lunch I wasn’t able to eat earlier. The dog’s locked eyes with me now. It’s staring at me with uncertainty. I work my right hand through the barbed wire. Shit. Not the best idea I’ve ever had. It scratches against my hand, drawing blood, but I manage to get it out the other side and toss the scrap of muesli bar. I pull my hand back in quickly. It hurts, but the cuts aren’t too deep. I lick a drop of blood from the inside of my wrist as I watch the dog. It smells the food for a moment before picking it up and running away from the fencing, stopping about twenty meters away to devour it, wagging its tail. Pretty cute. 

My good deed for the day, coupled with breathing in lungfuls of smoke-tainted evening air, have lifted my mood somewhat. I make my way back to the tent, hiding my injured hand in my pocket. Contemplate another cigarette before I head in, but decide I’ve taken a long enough break. Erwin’s cutting me enough slack as is, and things are still tense between us, so I don’t want to push my luck. 

It’s dinner time for the patients, and Eld is handing out individual servings of what looks like mystery stew. Erwin’s nowhere to be seen - he must have headed out for a rest since he’s taking night shift tonight. Petra’s in the corner closest to me rinsing something out of her red hair. I squint, my eyes still adjusting to the dimmer lighting. 

“Petra…” I say, catching her attention. She turns around to look at me. She doesn’t look happy. “Is that what I think it is?” 

She’s stony-faced as she replies. “Yes, Levi. It’s mystery stew. It’s disgusting. I barely let this stuff near my mouth.”

I smirk, despite myself. “You getting that desperate for alternative haircare? The standard issue shampoo does really suck.” 

Petra rolls her eyes. “This was clearly not intentional.” I pull a glove on and help her pick a few chunks off her scalp. They disintegrate between my fingers. Mystery stew is not okay. “Your boy is awake, and he’s in a mood.” I pause. “I tried to give him dinner and he lost it at me, hence the impromptu hair mask.” 

The nerves return in full force. “Shit.” Eren’s not just mad - he’s food-hurling mad. With how few and far between good showers are out here, I certainly can’t afford to bear the brunt of this.

She looks up at me through her damp fringe. “He yelled at Eld too so we’re avoiding him for the rest of the day. You go check on him. He likes you best, and he needs to eat tonight.” 

“He liked me best.” I correct her. “Before I chopped his leg off.” 

She sighs. “He can’t judge you for that, Levi. You saved his life.” She gestures towards a serving of stew sitting on the caddy. “Go on, give him that before it gets cold.” There’s a grimace on her face. “You know how much worse it is when it’s cold.” 

Every step I take towards our recovery unit on the other side of the tent is like wading through thick treacle. I swear it doesn’t usually take half this long to walk the space’s length. It also doesn’t help that I can feel everyone watching me. The other patients must be aware of the commotion Eren’s been causing, and they’re here for the drama. I suppose it’s the most entertainment anyone’s seen in a while. Even Anderson is craning his neck to watch me with his one eye. I feel like I’m performing for them. The pressure to come out free of stew all over my uniform is palpable. I make it to recovery, and draw the curtain sharply closed for privacy. You can almost hear the sighs of disappointment behind me. These people need to get a hobby. 

It’s darker here than in the rest of the tent due to a sterile interior lining. This gives the space an ominous vibe. A lamp swings slowly on the ceiling. Eren’s sitting up in bed, two cushions propped up behind him messily. His head’s leaned back and he’s staring at the ceiling. He’s pushed the blankets off him, and his leg’s exposed in all of its amputated glory. The dressing it’s wrapped in looks clean - I can’t see any signs of blood from the outside. That’s a good start. 

I stand there awkwardly, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. I was hoping Eren would react to the sound of the curtain closing, but he’s either zoning out big time or just fully ignoring me. I don’t know how to get his attention, and I’m a little nervous to get too close. I settle for clearing my throat loudly. 

His head jerks in my direction. For a moment, his expression’s wild. I start sweating almost immediately despite the cool evening air. I feel like a deer in the headlights, and prepare to be rammed head on. I grip his dinner tightly in my hands, even though I know there’s no way he can get over here and take it off me. But to my surprise, his expression softens almost instantly. He looks exhausted and his eyes are rimmed by bruise-like dark circles. He smiles at me sheepishly and raises both hands in a gesture of reconciliation. 

“Hi, Levi.” He still sounds croaky. “I’m not going to throw anything, I swear.” 

This is entirely unprecedented. Relief starts to wash over me, and I begin moving towards him, but I stop myself before I get too close. Just in case this is a trap. I decide to test the waters first. 

“You did a bit of a number on Petra and Eld.” I say. “They’re scared to come back in here.”

“I know.” Eren rubs at his eyes with both fists, like a child. “I don’t know what came over me. I woke up in such a shit mood, but I feel better now.” He peeks at me from under one of his hands. “I think throwing the stew got most of the angst out of my system.”

This admission is rather childish, but I find it so endearing. Suddenly I’m elated. Eren doesn’t hate me. I step forward, put his food down on his lap, and reach out to ruffle his hair. It needs a wash badly, but I don’t care. 

“It was a good throw. Straight headshot. Very impressive.” 

Eren laughs weakly. “Oh god, it was, wasn’t it? I feel so terrible! Can you apologise?” I’ve seriously matted his hair by touching it. He tries to push it back into place, but settles for scraping it back when this fails. “I must look like shit.” 

“You’ve just had surgery. Cut yourself some slack.” My back’s aching from having stood up all day, sending sharp jolts of pain down my leg. I need to sit down. I pull up a stool while Eren starts to eat his dinner, a look of disgust plain on his face. He makes it about halfway through before passing it back to me. 

“Fuck, that’s horrendous.” 

I pick up his fork and take an investigative bite. It is indeed horrendous. I’m by no means a top chef, but it’s beyond me how anyone can make food taste this bad. I guess I’m having sleep for dinner tonight. Eren’s looking at me, his brow furrowed. His stubble’s much more pronounced now, forming a dark shadow on his face. I think about how it would feel under my fingertips. What would he do if I ran my hand down his face, traced the shape of his jawline to the point of his chin? Probably swat it away. This mental image makes me itch. 

“What happened to your hand?”

It takes me a moment to realise what he’s talking about. I look down at the hand holding his fork. The cuts have stopped bleeding now, but they wind around my hand rather dramatically. There’s a big patch of dried blood on my uniform’s sleeve. It’s superficial, but I should probably give it a clean soon. 

“I put my hand through the fence.” I realise once this leaves my mouth how self-destructive this makes my behaviour sound, and quickly attempt to justify it. “Um… there was a stray dog out there. I gave it some food.” I poke at the remaining stew. I don’t know why, but admitting to this makes me uncomfortable. Feeding stray animals is rom-com hero shit, not grouchy side character in a gritty drama shit. Who do I think I am? I need to stay in my lane. I wait for Eren to laugh, maybe voice a similar sentiment, but as always, he surprises me. 

“That’s very like you.” He’s chuckling, but not in a tongue-in-cheek way. I look up, and there it is again - that warm look of his. It makes me feel like I’m developing a heart condition. My chest is so full. It’s too intense. I have to change the subject, quickly. I snap some clean gloves over my hands. 

“I need to change your dressing.” Whatever was just developing in the atmosphere is sucked out of the room instantly. I’m at once both relieved and desperately disappointed. Eren shifts awkwardly. His leg moves funny, like there’s still a foot attached to it. 

He sighs. “I guess you’ve gotta, huh?” He gives his knee joint an experimental flex. It’s moving fine - there’s no swelling visible. “I don’t really want to see it.” This is very understandable. Seeing it makes it real. I remember the first time I saw the scars on my body after the accident. It was a wake-up call like no other. 

“You don’t have to look.” I say.

“No, I do.” He takes a deep breath. “Go on, take the dressing off. I may as well get used to it.” 

I do it as fast as I possibly can. Unwrap the bandage, check the wound. Clean the stitches. Eren stays quiet. He doesn’t even flinch when I touch his leg. I pad the wound with gauze and wrap it up again. It takes me about seven minutes. Only when I’m finished do I look back up at him. He looks pale, and he’s staring at his leg with palpable intensity. I could walk out of the room right now and I doubt he’d notice. So that’s what I decide to do. Give him a bit of space, because he looks exhausted as fuck. Coming out from under general anaesthetic is always disorientating. I can’t resist reaching out to touch his shoulder. He doesn’t look at me, but his glare softens for a moment. 

“I’m heading out now, Eren.” I give him a little squeeze. “Erwin’s working the late shift tonight, so he’ll be by to do a round a bit later.” He still doesn’t say anything. I’m lingering now, like an idiot. I have no idea what I’m waiting for. One more parting statement, and then I’ll leave him be. “I know it sounds so fucking cliche, but it does get better. It’ll be hard at first, but you will adjust. And… uh… I’m here for you.” Shit. Is that crossing a line? “And so’s the rest of the team.” Nice save. 

Eren doesn’t look up, but he does smile a little at this. “Thank you, Levi.” The room feels a little bit warmer for his words. 

* * *

By the time Erwin comes back in at ten o’clock, I’m exhausted. The rest of the encampment is bathed in darkness, so the tent is attracting moths drawn in by our ever-present lights. I’ve spent the last hour sitting down next to Eld. Conversation is beyond us at this point of the night. Eld’s reading the same book he reads every day. Of Mice and Men, it’s called. Looks pretty depressing. I think it was on the English syllabus at high school. The same syllabus that probably ended up in my bin a few days into the school year. I was never big into reading until Erwin got me into it after my accident, so a lot of modern classics have passed me by. Not Fear and Loathing, though. That book was one of the only presents Kenny ever got me when I was fourteen, and I spent sleepless nights poring over it. My dog-eared old copy is back at base in America, stashed away in my locker. I thought about taking it out on tour, but I got sentimental as we were heading out and left it behind where I knew it would be safe. Looking at Eld reading, I regret it now. I need a distraction from my thoughts that’s more effective than fiddling with the bandage wrapped around my hand. Maybe Erwin can provide this. 

I wave at him to draw his attention, and gesture towards the outdoors. He nods and follows me out. It’s cool now. One of the moths that’s been circulating inside follows us, flitting around Erwin’s face. He swats at it as I reach for my lighter in my pocket. Insects aren’t the only irritating things currently lingering in the air between us. He’s still upset with me, and I have absolutely no idea how to address it. Our dynamic is usually a fairly simple one - I’m an asshole to him, and he puts up with it because he’s a nice person. In this particular case, I haven’t really been an asshole. It’s actually sort of the opposite. He’s upset because I’ve been too nice to a patient. 

It suddenly hits me that Erwin could be jealous. He, Petra, Eld and Hanji back home are the only people I’ve ever really considered friends, and I’m pretty sure I’m the person he’s closest to out here. Maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention to him since Eren’s appeared on the scene. This thought makes me feel a bit guilty. He’s been there for me through everything. I shouldn’t neglect him on account of my ridiculous crush that’s almost definitely not going anywhere. I resolve to pull my head out of my ass and try to resolve things with him. 

“Erwin.” I’m speaking softly, but my voice carries far into the surrounding silence. I take a long drag on my cigarette. It’s burning close to my fingers, and I can feel the heat radiating from it. Erwin looks at me. His eyes are sad. I struggle to get my next words out. “I’m sorry.” 

He pushes dirt on the ground around with his shoe. “What for, Levi?”

For ditching you because I have the hots for a good-looking soldier? “I don’t know. Undermining you yesterday? You’re obviously angry with me, and I want to make things right.” I blow smoke out of my nose, struggling with my next statement. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.” There we go. Probably the nicest thing I’ve ever said to my best friend. If this doesn’t clear the air, nothing will. 

The light spilling out from the tent illuminates Erwin’s silhouette, and I struggle to make out his expression in the dark. I think he’s smiling, but I can’t see his eyes. There’s an unfamiliar bird singing somewhere in the distance.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” It’s almost a whisper. Something about this hurts. I toss my butt onto the ground. 

“So, are we cool?” 

He laughs, and it’s the saddest little laugh I’ve ever heard. I’m staring at him now, trying to see his face. Spots dance across my vision, obscuring him. I’ve seen him in every mood - happy, sad, pissed off, wasted off bottles of wine. I can’t figure out what this one is. It feels like a tension that’s been mounting for the last couple of weeks, and my only clues towards figuring it out are sideways glances and awkward silences. My pitiful emotional intuition is certainly not providing me any aid. 

Erwin touches my arm with his knuckles. They trace down my uniform sleeve, scraping on the tough fabric. I watch his hand cautiously, not quite sure what to make of this. He reaches my cuff, coming dangerously close to my hand. I make a fist automatically, angling my bare skin away from his. This makes him pause, and draw away. 

“Sure, Levi. We’re cool.” Words of affirmation that don’t do anything to reduce my stress levels. He’s acting weird as fuck. “You can head off for the night.”

Not knowing what else to do, I turn on my heel and head towards our bunks. The day’s events weigh on me heavily as I pull our tent door open. God, I miss bricks and mortar. I can hear the soft, even sounds of Petra’s breathing. Even in her sleep, she’s soothing to listen to. I pull up to my bunk and strip down to my underwear. The heady smell of sweat exudes from every pore, but I’m dog-tired and can’t be bothered making it all the way over to the showers, or the well. The dog tags around my neck rattle together as I bend down to massage my sore leg, feeling the outline of the titanium bolts that hold my hip together through my skin and tired flesh. 

Thoughts of Erwin’s strange behaviour followed me all the way here, but now I’m sitting down, all that’s on my mind is Eren. He doesn’t hate me. He doesn’t blame me for his leg. I’m still his favourite. I literally fucking grin as my head hits my pillow. 

Maybe I could be to him what Erwin was to me. I think about the things we did together in the early weeks after my accident. Erwin would take me out for cigarettes and push me around base in my wheelchair, a welcome distraction from hours of lying in bed unable to move. We have a rickety old wheelchair somewhere back in the medical tent. I wonder if Eren smokes. I can’t remember. I wonder what he’d look like under the sun. I’ve only seen him up close in dingy light. 

The image of his tanned skin illuminated, his eyes shining, is vivid behind my lids. I let it carry me off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading everyone! It's been a bit of a gritty start but we're heading into more romance soon. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think x


	6. Fallin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic's alternate title is now officially "A Love Letter to Bonding over Cigarettes"

I wake up at the asscrack of dawn to try and unearth the old wheelchair before I start work. I hurl my breakfast down in the mess hall, and arrive in the medical tent early. Erwin’s busy talking to a patient, and he doesn’t notice me slip in. I’m relieved. I’m not in the mood for an awkward conversation this early on in the day, and I’m still feeling strange about last night. Hopefully I can fly under the radar until Petra arrives. She shouldn’t be too far behind me - I saw her heading towards the showers as I left the mess. 

Our storage cabinets are behind the recovery curtains. A quick scan of the rest of the room turns up negative for a wheelchair, though I do see a fair few pairs of those god awful crutches lying around. My eyes linger on Eren’s bed for a moment. He’s back out of recovery, and he’s not alone. Mikasa is sitting with him, holding his hand. His face is clean-shaven now, and his hair is wet. I wonder if his sister helped him wash. The bags under her eyes are so pronounced, she must have snuck in here in the middle of the night. Both of them look like they’ve been crying, but they’re not anymore. Eren looks animated as he tells a story, and Mikasa’s listening with a fond look on her face. It’s actually quite a sweet scene. 

I cautiously peer through the gap in the recovery curtains, checking that there haven’t been any casualties during the night. The bed’s empty, as it has been for the past few weeks save Eren’s brief stint. I slip past the curtains and unlock the first cabinet. No luck. There’s another pair of shitty crutches (the urge to snap these over my knee is, as always, very strong) and more medical supplies. The second cabinet has more of the same. Shit. This is a spanner in the works. I don’t know if carrying Eren outside bridal-style would be as appropriate. As I’m brainstorming possible alternatives, I spot something sticking out from underneath the cabinet. Brown wood and folded leather. This looks promising. 

I bend down, curse my back as it sends shockwaves of pain through my body, and give the wood a tug. I work it free after about a minute. The shittiest wheelchair I have ever seen. It’s covered in dust and the handles are riddled with borer, but it’s still functional. Barely. Fuck yes. 

The morning’s a blur. My pulse is racing. I rush through rounds. Mikasa’s gone by the time I reach Eren’s bed, and I check him over in a hurry, eager to see everyone before my first break. His leg’s doing great, and he seems okay. Better than yesterday when I left him. He’s verbal, he’s smiling, he even cracks some crappy ass jokes that I can’t even bring myself to laugh at. It makes me desperate to reveal my surprise to him, but I resolve to wait until first break. It finally comes a painful half hour later. I look over at Erwin, and he gives me the nod. I fetch the chair from recovery, and carry it over to Eren. He furrows his brow as he watches me approach. 

“What’ve you got there?”

“It’s a wheelchair. Possibly a relic from the nineteenth century.” Shit. He’s still just staring at me. Why do words have to exist? I should have rehearsed this better. “It’s my break. We’re heading out for a cigarette.” Smooth. 

For a second I think he’s going to require further clarification, and I die a little inside. But then his face cracks into a wide grin. 

“Are you asking me out, Doctor Ackerman?”

He’s joking, I tell myself. It’s a joke. A joke that makes my insides melt. “Yes, I am.” A casual, witty response should hide the fact that my stomach is about to drop out of my ass. “I was thinking I’d take you to a prime romantic location next to the latrines.” 

He laughs. “You sure know how to treat a man.” 

“Don’t ever let anyone tell you I don’t have game.” I crack the wheelchair open. A few joints creak ominously, but it appears to be structurally sound. “Alright, kid. Let’s get you into this.”

It’s a bit of a struggle lifting him out of bed, since he’s not yet accustomed to his new centre of gravity. I shift behind him, gripping his torso under his armpits, and we shuffle awkwardly together towards the chair. He drops into the leather with a grunt. It doesn’t have any footrests, but that doesn’t matter so much since he only has one. Everyone watches us closely as we head out. The wheels of the chair creak so loudly they’re essentially announcing our exit. I can feel Erwin’s eyes on me, but I avoid looking his way. 

Eren squints as we leave the tent, putting his arm up over his eyes to shield them from the initial shock of the sun. He’s quiet, but he’s smiling so widely. Leaving a hospital bed for the first time after a traumatic experience is like leaving prison, I swear. He looks like an emancipated man, breathing in the fresh air. We park up in my usual spot, and I pass Eren a smoke I rolled earlier, lighting it for him. This is peak intimacy to me. I watch him inhale deeply. He coughs a bit as I light mine, a grimace on his face. 

“What is this tobacco? It tastes like shit.” 

“God knows. I miss Marlboros so much.” 

“I was more of a Camel kinda guy.” He watches me intently as I puff away on mine. My skin tingles under his scrutiny. “You make smoking this shit look easy.” 

“Took a bit of getting used to.” I say. “But honestly, after how long I’ve been smoking, my tastebuds are so fried I can’t really tell the difference.” 

“A seasoned veteran in more ways than one.” He cocks his head to one side. “When did you start?”

I ash my cigarette. “I must have been eleven or twelve.” He looks at me incredulously. 

“Seriously? Were you literally born a hardass?” This makes me laugh. “God, when I was eleven I’m pretty sure I was still deep in my Action Man phase.” He takes another experimental drag, and coughs again. “Fuck. You’re making me feel like such a loser, Levi!”

“It wasn’t so cool, really.” Am I really gonna do this? Am I opening up right now? Eren looks so cute when he’s eager and expectant. I guess I can’t disappoint him. “My uncle Kenny brought me up, and he was a bit of a scumbag. I didn’t have a horrible childhood, but it was pretty unconventional. He smoked like a chimney. More than I do now. The whole house stank of it. I inhaled so much second-hand that the addiction just crept up on me.” 

“Did he mind when you started?” Eren asks. I chuckle. 

“He didn’t give a shit. He bought me the smokes.” His eyes widen at that. “As long as I got him the money. He taught me how to pickpocket pretty early on, and more besides. I was shaking down businessmen in alleyways since I was about thirteen.” 

“Shit.” He blows smoke out of his nose. We sit in silence for a moment. I look at his collarbones, where a thin layer of sweat is developing. “I guess that doesn’t really surprise me. You give off mad ‘don’t piss me off’ vibes. All the other guys inside are scared shitless of you.” 

I snort. “For real?” 

“Yeah. Peters told me you threatened him with a scalpel on his second night in.” 

I roll my eyes. “Peters is a sook. That was clearly a joke.” 

He grins at me, pushing his hair off his forehead. He’s always fucking around with it. It needs a trim. “I don’t think you’re scary.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

“Nah, you’re far too short to intimidate me.” I punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs. “I’m kidding! I reckon you’re a big softie, but you’re just really good at hiding it.” 

I’m lost for words. I don’t know what I did to hoodwink this kid into thinking I’m a good person, but looking down at him now, glistening under the hot sun, I’ll do anything to keep the facade up for him. His smile is so real. He looks seriously amazing when he smokes my cigarettes. He looks away from me after a few seconds, taking in the rest of the encampment. This fails to break the spell. I look at his profile, at his arms, at the bundle of dog tags hanging around his chest that stand out against his black singlet. Natural light picks out details I hadn’t noticed in the dim tent. A silver key is front and centre on the chain. He has a thin, white scar on his left elbow. He subconsciously traces it with his ring finger as I watch him. Stubs his butt out on the wheelchair’s armrest, and looks back up at me out of the corner of his eye with a gentle smirk.

“Don’t worry, though. I won’t tell anyone.” It takes me a second to remember what we were talking about. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He’s only cottoned on to half the secret anyway. I’m a fucking huge softie right now, but only really for him. 

I ruffle his hair, messing it up again. “Better be, kid.”

* * *

This is the beginning of something beautiful. Eren comes out with me for every smoke break I take. By the end of the day, he starts turning down cigarettes. Apparently, his lungs can’t keep up with mine. He still comes outside anyway. I’m strongly starting to suspect that he enjoys my company, and this thought fills me with so much joy. And now I’ve opened the floodgates about my childhood, we’ve got so much more material to go over. We compare stories from school. It’s hardly surprising to me that he was an all-American boy with a spot on the varsity football team. But he also fought a lot, like me. His temper, which Petra and Eld were lucky enough to see first-hand, got him into trouble all the time. He almost got kicked out of high school for punching a teacher, and his dad had to come in and sweet-talk the administration into settling for a suspension. He describes it to me in more detail on my last evening break. 

“I’ve always been like that. I’m a pretty emotional guy, I guess. I care a lot about things.” He scratches behind his ear. “So when I get upset, it turns into pure rage. It’s like I’m blind. I lose control and yell and swear. And break things. I saw anger management therapists about it when I was younger, and we did deep breathing exercises and shit like that. None of it really helped. So even though I was pretty popular, a lot of people were terrified of me. Kids stayed away from me because of how volatile I was. When I ditched college for the army, people were like ‘no shit, the guy’s a psycho. Of course he wants to go and kill people’. I never really fit in.” 

This is at once familiar and very foreign to me. “People were scared of me too.” 

Eren looks at me. “I guess I can see that. Fighting scares most people with sense.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not like me, though. You’re in control. You don’t let your emotions lead.” 

No, I don’t. I push them deep down inside, and let other things lead instead. Other people. I’ve only ever followed orders, from Kenny, from the army, from Erwin. I’ve never thought about this before, and it almost winds me. What do I want? I think I’ve known for a long time that I don’t want to be in the army. I’ve known I don’t want to be here in Afghanistan since before we left. I’ve just stamped these thoughts down with my black boots, trodden them so far into the earth that they have no chance of germinating. Now they're shooting back upward through the soil. Is this what an epiphany feels like? 

“I’m cold, Eren. I don’t have heart like you do.” I graze a knuckle over his forearm, and watch goosebumps appear on his flesh. “Maybe I could afford to let my emotions lead a bit more.” 

He catches my fingertips, and gives them a quick squeeze. 

I think I’m undergoing a phase of serious character development. Thoughts race through my brain at high speed as I scrub down for the night, but it’s not the circuitous cacophony of depressing crap that usually occupies me. I’m actually feeling… excited. I’ve always settled for a monotonous way of life. First it was fighting, drinking, stealing. Then it was basic training, drills, folding hospital corners on my assigned bunk every morning. And now it’s following orders from Erwin and the other highers-up. What do I want? What do I even enjoy? The answers to these questions are beyond me. I reach out but I can’t grasp onto any clues. I think about the people I love. Erwin loves people, and he wants to take care of them. Hange fucking loves politics and teaching. I don’t have anything that motivates me other than close proximity to those I care about. I’m a leech that just attaches myself to others, and they’re so kind and nurturing that thye’ve never had the heart to cast me off. I need to start fending for myself. I need to find things I’m passionate about. I need to listen to my feelings, instead of the ever-present static orders that come through our army radios. I look over at Eren’s bed. I can only make out his shape in the dark. My blood is loud rushing through my body. 

His eyes may be green, but he’s red. The colour of fire, the colour of rage, the colour of blood. The colour of life. He’s breathing life into me with every conversation. This is so new, it’s terrifying. I’m overwhelmed. 

I go outside and look at the stars. For once, I don’t smoke. I gulp in lungfuls of fresh air, so much that it’s dizzying. The moon’s shining bright tonight, and I can make out individual houses on the hills in the distance. It’s a beautiful picture, but I can’t be a part of it for much longer. The thick curtain of darkness that drapes over this province hides a harsh reality of death and dispossession that becomes apparent under the light of day. I don’t like war. I don’t like human sacrifice. I’ve never believed the end justifies the means, and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t know what the end is supposed to look like out here. Fuck the army. Fuck Bush. God, I sound like Hange, but I don’t care. I want to achieve something meaningful. 

I’m so deep in thought I don’t realise there’s someone standing behind me until they jab me hard in the ribs. I literally jump. It’s Petra, grinning at me impishly. I sigh in relief. She’s genuinely the only person I think I can deal with right now, I’m so worked up. 

“Are you soul-searching out here?” She looks me up and down. “Where’s your cigarette?” 

I sigh and look up at the moon. Out of all the bloody cliches. “Petra, I think I’m having an existential crisis.” 

She puts an arm around me. I don’t shrug it off. “It’s because you’re in love.” Just kidding. It was nice to enjoy physical comfort for half a second. I jump out of her grasp. 

“Fuck off.” It’s not love - at least, I don’t think it is. It’s something more like inspiration. 

Petra’s laughing at me. “Come on, Levi. You’re absolutely besotted with that boy. I’ve never seen you like this.” 

Deflect deflect deflect. “Yes you have. That waitress at the bar near base camp?” 

She rolls her eyes. “That was just a flirtationship.” This makes me grimace. I find her colloquialisms hard to stomach. “You guys made eyes at each other, you fucked her a few times, and then you forgot about her.” I truly had forgotten about her. It was particularly hot sex. 

“Well, how do you know that’s not what this is? A flirtationship?” I inject the last word with a healthy dose of disdain. Not that I think Eren and I are flirting. I wouldn’t know how to flirt with an inanimate object, let alone a real human being. 

“Because you smile more.” 

I pull a face. “That’s gross.”

She giggles. “It is pretty gross. But it’s also cute. I support it.” 

This is quite sweet. I feel a rush of affection towards Petra. That doesn’t mean I want to talk about my feelings with her ever again, but I do truly appreciate her. I think I’ve had more positive feelings today than I’ve had in the past six months. What a rollercoaster. I’m fucking tired.

I’m about to head off to my tent when I remember something crucial. “Petra?”

She looks at me and smiles. “Hmm?”

“This thing about me liking Eren… Can you keep it to yourself? If anyone finds out I’m bi, I could get fired. I could lose my pension.” 

She touches my arm again. “Of course I won’t tell anyone.” She pauses for a moment, considering something. “I haven’t told anyone about you, just like I’d never tell anyone about Erwin.”

Erwin? What? 

I’m dumbstruck. I gape at Petra. She admonishes me. “Come on, Levi. You know he’s gay.” 

No I fucking don’t. And he’s my best friend. He knows I’ve slept with guys. Why don’t I know this about him? Why wouldn’t he trust me with it? “I don’t know he’s gay. How do you know?”

Petra’s looking increasingly uncomfortable. She wraps her arms around herself. “He told me.” He told her. Clearly he’s telling all in sundry about his sexuality. Except for me. Suddenly, I feel like such shit. The rift between Erwin and I is clearly nothing new - I’m so clueless I’m probably only just noticing it now. 

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I sound like a whiny kid. Petra’s so stressed out. She raises a hand and starts biting a nail. 

“Fuck, Levi. I’m so sorry. I think I know why he wouldn’t tell you, but it’s really not my place to say.”

She knows? There’s a reason that he’s talked about to her? “Tell me.” 

She shakes her head slowly. “I really can’t. I promised.” All of a sudden, things start to fall into place. All the times I’ve walked in on her and Erwin chatting, all the secret glances they throw each other. It’s all about me. 

“Wow.” I’m getting heated now, I can’t help it. “I know I’m a nasty piece of shit and you guys put up with a lot, but I didn’t know I was that untrustworthy.” Petra looks on the verge of tears. 

“Oh god, that’s really not it!” The tears start to fall, but she wipes them away. “I’m such an idiot. I…” I’m torn between wanting to comfort her and being really, really pissed off. And hurt. My chest aches. I know I’m a nasty piece of shit, but at least I was a nasty piece of shit with friends that loved me up until half a minute ago. “I’ll tell you, okay? But you can’t say anything, Levi. Please.” 

I rock back and forth on my soles. This’ll be good. “Sure, I promise.” She shoots me a serious glare, and I raise my hands in response. “I swear on my life!”

“Erwinlovesyou.”

The words come out of her mouth like vomit. They’re all stuck together. My brain can’t separate them. They swim around in my brain, making me feel nauseous. 

“What?”

Petra’s so angry now, but I don’t think it’s at me. “Do you really need me to repeat it?” I’m standing stock still, like a muppet. She takes this as affirmation. This time, I hear the words loud and clear. 

“Erwin’s in love with you, Levi. Since forever. Since day one.”

The rug of reality is swept from under my feet. I pitch into freefall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who left such kind words on my last chapter x hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!


	7. Like a Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: light references to homophobia, light blood and gore

Yet another sleepless night. This one has to be the worst yet. From the moment I lay down, I can’t shut my mind off. I don’t think I close my eyes except to blink. I stare up at the canopy all night, watching it gently move in the breeze while my thoughts rip gales through my head. 

Erwin loves me. 

I replay every second of my conversation with Petra. At first I didn’t believe her. Why would someone like Erwin love someone like me? She looked at me very sadly when I voiced this. She told me she doesn’t know why he loves me, but that love isn’t always so simple. For example, she said, her fiance is an idiot with an ugly face, but she loves him regardless. This broke up the tension a little, but my stress levels were still at a record high. I needed to be alone, so I walked around the encampment’s perimeter a few times, smoking cigarettes. I looked out for the stray dog, but it was nowhere to be seen. I must have sent myself to bed around two in the morning. It’s almost seven now, and my brain’s almost melted from overuse. 

It makes sense. I hate it, but it explains a lot. Erwin’s done everything for me. He’s a giving person, but he’s always cut me so much more slack than anyone else. He gives me more time, more energy, more care. I just assumed it was because I was so much more of a basket case. I thought it came from a sense of duty. That he felt sorry for the poor drug dealer’s kid whose friends were blown up in a faulty tank, and took him under his care. I thought he saw me as lesser, a diminutive. It’s hard to imagine that he’s had me up on a pedestal this whole time. It’s a dynamic shift I can’t see myself getting used to any time soon. 

I roll over onto my back, scraping my hair out of my eyes with a deep sigh. The sun’s rising in earnest, and pinpricks of bright light shine into the tent through small holes in the canvas. I’ve had insomnia long enough to know that the possibility of sleep is far too elusive now, but I’m at a loss of what to do with my waking hours. I’m changing over from days to nights, so I have the morning before I’m needed back at work. Usually I’d head over anyway and fuck around outside, catch the team as they come out for their breaks, but the thought of seeing Erwin right now has me feeling a little green. I don’t know how to act. I don’t want to drop Petra in it for telling me, but I don’t feel like this is something that can go unacknowledged forever. We’re going to have to discuss it at some point. Great. Initiating difficult conversations is my greatest pleasure in life. It’s probably going to take me years to be able to work up the courage. 

I slide my blankets off and sit up slowly. Pain shoots up my left side, and I grimace. The lack of strong prescription painkillers out here is really starting to do a number on me. I stretch and rub at it, digging my fingers deeply into my spine in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. It helps a little. Oxygenated blood pours around my body, clearing some of the stuffy sleepiness from my head. I put my arms behind my head to stretch the seized-up muscles and smell myself in the process. That’s decided. First port of call is a shower.

Freezing cold water, breakfast of questionable quality and a few cigarettes later and I’m starting to edge closer to the land of the living. It’s actually quite nice being off-duty - I’m able to forgo the thick uniform shirt that we have to wear during work. The wind’s blustery today, and it feels nice against my exposed arms and chest which are still a little damp from my shower. I stand in a sunny spot near the mess hall for a while, soaking up the vitamin D and kicking around pebbles, but my restlessness is eating away at me. I can’t stop looking over at the medical tent. It’s as dark and oppressive-looking as always, but there’s an undeniable magnetism to it in the past few weeks. Spending time in there lately has occasionally been enjoyable. 

I’m so torn. Avoiding conversation with Erwin until I figure out how to broach it is high-priority, but seeing Eren overrides this by a long shot. I wonder what he’s doing right now. I picture him lounging in bed languidly, propped up on his elbows with his head leaning back against the headboard. Or picking at a bowl of gruel with a disparaging look on his face. I want to hear him complain about it, and tell me how much he misses IHOP. These visuals reel me in so strongly that my legs start moving, and when my brain finally catches up, I’m working my way through the tent’s entrance. Erwin’s scrubbing up at the station to my left, and he looks up as I come in. He gives me an inquisitive once-over as I try to hide the fact that my stomach’s just about dropped out of my ass. 

“You’re here early. Everything alright?” 

He shoots me a weary smile. He’s always so good to me, even when I’m about to be an asshole to him. If I was a better friend, I’d probably cool things off with Eren for Erwin’s sake, instead of chasing him so pathetically right under his nose. But clearly I’m a selfish piece of shit who can’t stay away, even for the sake of his best friend. I dig my hands into my pockets, feeling immeasurable combinations of self-loathing and discomfort. “I’m good.” It comes out curt and sharp. I try again, desperately willing myself normal. “I’m fine. I was having trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d take Jaeger out for a walk.”

If I hadn’t been mulling over this all night I probably wouldn’t have picked up on the tension in the air as he responds, but it’s plain as day now. He breathes out and smiles, wiping his hands with a paper towel, but he’s looking away at a spot just next to my left ear. “That’s a nice idea.” He throws the towel at the bin and misses. We both stare at it. “Make sure you’re back by twelve.” 

This is so awkward it hurts. I linger for a second, then nod and walk away. I don’t look back at him, but I feel his gaze on the back of my neck, and it prickles like ice in water. I try to shake it off as I near Eren’s bed. He’s picking some dirt out from underneath his fingernails, but he glances up when I reach the end of his bed. He looks me up and down, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Is he… checking me out? Surely not. God, finding out one person has feelings for me is threatening to turn me into a narcissist. 

“Hey, Levi.” He says. “Day off today?”

“I’ve got an evening shift.” I toe at his bed leg. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“That’s a poor choice of words.” I snort. Is that an amputation joke? This kid’s bouncing back fast. 

“I guess that’s how it sounded, huh?” He grins at me. My pulse races. “Don’t worry, you’re currently exempt from any walking. Doctor’s orders.” 

I push him out past the tent, past the latrines, towards the well. It’s quiet outside today. Two regiments were sent out this morning, so we’re on higher alert than we have been for the last few weeks. There’s a murky sense of anxiety settling over the remaining soldiers. Even the air back in the medical tent is thick with it, but Eren’s either oblivious or eternally optimistic. He monologues the entire walk, blowing off steam about some of the other patients.

“We’re all trapped in that bloody tent all day, and literally nothing happens! Levi, it’s so painful.” He’s whining like a little brat, and I’m caught between wanting to smack him upside the head for it or ruffle his hair fondly. I settle for the latter, and he leans back into my hand. Doesn’t shut him up though. “Anderson’s such a disgusting eater, it makes me sick. And you should hear the way they all talk about women! Every time Mikasa comes to visit someone says something about her ass and it’s so fucking creepy. Or they make some kind of comment that has racist undertones. I threw my flask at Jones during breakfast because he called her my mail-order bride. Doctor Smith got so mad.” 

I chuckle. “Should have thrown something sharper and ended it. You know Jones is a die-hard Eminem fan? Those people shouldn’t be allowed to live.” 

Eren twists around in the seat of his chair to catch my eye, laughing loudly in agreement. The chair creaks ominously and he hurriedly faces front and centre again. I give the joints of this fragile structure five more days maximum before it collapses underneath him, so it’s a relief to reach a stop by the old well. I park Eren up and sit next to him, my back resting against the sandy brickwork. The ground’s dusty, littered with old cigarette butts and candy wrappers, but I don’t care if my ass gets dirty right now. I’m fucking exhausted. I light up, put my head back and sigh. Eren’s resting his chin on the back of his hand, looking down at me. 

“Dude, you look like shit.” 

We can’t all be as good-looking as you, I think. “Thanks, dickhead.” 

He reaches out and picks the cigarette from between my fingers. I realise I haven’t rolled him one. I watch as he takes a drag, blowing smoke out of his nose, before passing it back over. He’s staring at me intently, eyes searching my face for something. 

“Your under-eye bags are next level. Are you okay?” 

No. I’m not okay. I’m so stressed out, but I can hardly talk about this with Eren without risking outing Erwin, or myself. But I feel torn, because for once in my life, I want to share. He’s good to talk to, and carrying this around by myself is already feeling far too heavy. I’m quiet for a moment, considering my next words carefully. 

“I’ve realised someone has feelings for me.” Eren’s blank-faced, his mouth gaping. He looks frozen in shock. It’s that surprising, huh? Still hasn’t really sunk in for me either. “It’s a friend. We’ve been close for years. I feel like such crap because I don’t feel the same way.” These clumsy sentences come out in a rush, like I’ve been waiting to say them out loud all day. My admission feels like an exhalation, and a sense of relief settles over me. I take a drag and hand the smoke back to Eren. The shock’s sliding off his face now, but he looks a little red. I guess it’s pretty hot out - I can feel a burn steadily developing on my shoulders.

“Shit, that’s rough.” He sinks lower down in the seat of his chair and leans both forearms on the armrest closest to me, bringing his face down to my level. “Who is it?” 

Nosy little bastard. “I can’t say.” 

He’s flicking through a mental Roladex of all the characters in this story. “It’s Petra, isn’t it? She’s always watching you.” 

I laugh a little, relieved. Thank god he thinks I’m hetero. “It’s not Petra.” Shit, we’re already running low on females. I interrupt him before he can throw out any more suggestions. “I’m not telling you who it is. I’m not even supposed to know.” He has the nerve to look disappointed. 

“Well…” He scratches his chin. “If she’s such a good friend, is there ever a chance you could be something more?” 

This is the question that’s been forefront all night. I love Erwin. I’ve told him this so many times whilst drunk off my face as he tucks me in on his couch. I’ve thought it to myself when he wakes me up in the morning with fucking bacon and eggs. These are peak husband material things. He’s the total package - he’s good-looking, he’s smart, he’s so kind. But I just don’t see him in a romantic light. I guess I’m seriously that messed up. I look up again. Clouds are starting to gather in the sky, bathing us in shadow. Thin strips of sunlight dance around my legs.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s just not like that.” Maybe it’s because I don’t understand healthy relationships. I think about my infatuation with Eren. It’s anything but normal how attached I’ve gotten to him in such a short time. Just sitting next to him is stirring my insides up. He has such an effect on me, and I can’t tell whether it’s negative or positive. I can’t even put it into words. It’s like he makes me want to be myself. 

I glance over at him. Light runs up his body, and I follow it with my eyes, taking everything in. I’ve never wished I had an artist’s eye so much - this sight deserves to be immortalised in rich oil colours. The creases in his pants, his bandaged leg. His arms, covered in light brown hairs. Green eyes flecked with gold that squint when the clouds part just enough to illuminate his face. Despite this, he doesn’t look away. He’s never been afraid to hold my gaze, not since the first time I met him. It feels like a challenge. I’ve never been challenged like this before, and it flips my world on its head. I can’t tell if it’s delirium from my severe lack of sleep or something much more sweet, but I hear a voice. It’s not cerebral. It’s every single one of my bones, every single one of my organs, every ounce of blood rushing through my veins, singing out to me. It’s building and building and building. 

_Just do it, Levi._

His eyelashes are dark and long. He’s so fucking beautiful.

_Just do it, Levi. Tell him how you feel._

The sunlight disappears off his face. He’s still staring at me, waiting for something. What’s he waiting for? 

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

I could lose everything. But is everything I have right now worth holding onto? What would Eren do? 

_Let his emotions lead._

“Besides,” I say, “I like someone else.” 

Fuck it. Can’t take it back now. Suddenly I can’t even look at him. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt awkwardly. I’m cold, like all the heat in my body was forced out with that pathetic excuse for a confession. I haven’t even said it’s him I like and I’ve already run out of steam. Every noise he makes is amplified tenfold. I hear him swallow, hear him exhale, hear him begin to speak. 

Sharp static interrupts us. I almost shit myself. It’s my radio. I pull it out of my pocket, trying to gather my wits from the concrete around us. The chaos I hear over the line reflects the chaos raging inside me. Our troops have been engaged, and we’re being told to stand by and expect casualties. At least five dead, and another seven wounded. We’re going to have to set up some more beds in the tent. This is the first incident we’ve seen since Eren’s, and I was starting to get used to a quieter pace. Working is so far from my mind at this point, I’ve almost forgotten we’re in enemy territory. 

I stand up and dust my pants off, flexing my shoulders until I hear the pop of joints inside my arms. I’m desperately trying to wind down, let the panic from my almost-confession settle. I sneak a glance at Eren. He’s staring at me blankly, deep in thought. I’m dying to know what he’s thinking about. The question forms on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid to ask it. Does he know what I was about to say? Suddenly the weight behind my words hits me like a damned missile. Sure, Eren doesn’t strike me as a homophobe, but you can’t judge a book by its cover, especially in the army. I’ve seen gay rumours spread around regiments like wildfire before, and they always result in nasty bullying and social ostracisation. Patching up guys who’ve been pummelled by groups of insecure men because they express a hint of femininity isn’t all that unfamiliar to me out here or back at base, so telling Eren I’m pretty fucking gay for him is a gamble I’m not sure I’m willing to take. I try my best to swallow down any more words that threaten to give me away before speaking again. 

“Eren.” That’s a nice, neutral start. He doesn’t answer me. He’s still wearing that thoughtful look. And then sunlight hits his face again, and he breaks into a gentle smile, cocking his head slightly as answer. “We should head back in. Fresh meat.” Perhaps not the most diplomatic thing to say to a recent amputee, but it doesn’t seem to phase him. 

“Okay. But...” His eyes are glimmering something fierce. “Weren’t you about to say something?” 

“No.” I scoff. 

“I think you were.” The little shit. “Please tell me.” This sounds much more like an order than a request despite the use of pleasantries. He’s challenging me again, and I’m not quite sure why. We size each other up for a moment under the scorching sun as I debate my next move. 

“People are dying, kid. I think it can wait.” It’s still an hour or so until the injured arrive back at camp, and we both know it. We just heard it on the radio. But this is an argument that’s difficult to rebut, and it shuts Eren up with an irritated sigh. My seasoned deflection tactics win out against his stubbornness. For now. I have a feeling he’s not done pressing me on this, and he proves it on the way back to the tent. We’ve just passed by the showers when he raises an arm to scratch the back of his head. His hand runs through his brown hair, but it doesn’t stop there. The backs of calloused fingers come to rest against my chest. They rattle my dog tags as they make their way up, slowing for a second as they reach my singlet’s neckline. And then knuckles are stroking against my bare skin, sticking slightly in the heat. 

It’s over in about ten seconds. I don’t realise I’ve stopped breathing until his arm is back in his lap. My heart’s palpitating severely, and my life’s playing out before my eyes. I witness a flash of my very own funeral, Erwin and Hange sobbing around a headstone that reads “Here lies Levi Ackerman. We thought it would be lung cancer that takes him in the end, but we never factored in the touch of a handsome, tanned soldier.” What an embarrassing way to go, dying like a goddamned virgin who can’t handle light petting. 

There’s no way that wasn’t deliberate. I want to stop Eren, look at his face, but I’m afraid I might pass out if I see the way he looks back at me. Or grab him by the back of the head and kiss him, hard. I shake my head to clear this image before it becomes all too alluring, and try to steady my breathing as we get back in to the tent. It’s a hive of activity - Petra, Erwin, Eld and Mike are flitting around the space, moving low-priority patients and stretching out makeshift beds. I lift Eren back onto his bed, trying very hard not to notice how warm his body feels against mine, before joining the fray. 

Eren wants to touch me. 

This thought follows me around all day. I feel his knuckles ghosting against me when I’m elbow-deep in someone’s chest cavity. I feel them when blood spills around the soles of my boots in our makeshift operating theatre. I feel them when I put an arm around Erwin outside the tent after we lose five people. The touch still lingers like a good luck charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this one and still feel like it's a bit of a filler so I hope it still reads alright! If you enjoyed it give it a kudos and feel free to give me any comments below, I love hearing what you all think <3
> 
> Also thought I should mention that there aren't going to be any major character deaths in this story, I think the boys have been through enough!


	8. Teardrop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: references to blood and gore

I think about movies I’ve seen sometimes. Slice-of-life style dramas or romantic comedies where mum’s a secretary, dad’s a stockbroker. Their jobs are always so busy, so endlessly complicated. They’re overworked, overstretched, and never have any time for their families, which culminates in severe daddy issues for their teenagers. I never related to these when I was younger, but I put that down to Kenny’s unusual lifestyle. Normal parents arrived at work at eight thirty in the morning in a suit and tie, a cup of takeaway coffee in hand. Kenny didn’t get up until noon, and he lay around on the couch until the early evening popping Advil in an attempt to cure his hangover. I envied the kids in my class who had a key to their house, who could open up when their parents weren’t home and have the place to themselves. I spent my afternoons trying to do my geometry homework surrounded by heavy metal music and empty beer cans. Kenny helped me out sometimes, but he was often a bit too pissed to be of any use, and too distracted by the constant sound of junkies knocking on our door checking if he was in. I’d usually end up tossing the homework aside and retreating into my windowless room to get some peace and quiet. Staring up at the dusty brick ceiling, I’d let my bourgeois fantasies play out in my head. One day, I thought, I’d have a three bedroom house in the suburbs. I’d be six foot three, have a wife and two kids, and my biggest worry would be intangible concepts like stocks and the economy rather than the much more pressing concern of what my next meal was going to look like. It’s fucking embarassing to think about now, how straight-edge my fantasies were, but as a kid, I would have given anything for a normal life. 

This is far from the stress-free future I’d envisioned for myself, I think grimly. I’m standing in the shower, head down under the freezing cold flow, scrubbing blood off my forearms. It’s been an absolute shitter of a day, and though I’ve moved on from fantasising about the traditional nuclear family, I’d definitely take a white picket fence and a Range Rover over this. Honestly, a rat-infested bedroom in a brownstone would be preferable at this point. I just want to go home. 

The injuries today were by far the worst we’ve seen on this tour. I don’t know why most of the casualties were even brought into us - they were goners before we’d even started treating them. Only two survivors, and one’s probably not coming back out of recovery. Erwin’s despondent, as usual. By the time our team finished the initial treatment, he had been up for more than twenty-four hours. He wanted so badly to stay awake longer, help us out with the clean-up, but I forced him into the showers. Hung around outside smoking, then carted him off to bed when he came out. Now I’m cleaning myself up before I head back in for the grave shift. At least things have cooled off again - the bodies have been taken away, the tarpaulin floors well mopped. Tonight, the loss will hang over us. Tomorrow, we’ll make like nothing ever happened. Rinse, rinse and repeat. It’s a mantra at this point. 

I tip my head back and breathe in deeply. I’m tired, and my bones ache, but there’s a warmth pulsing in my chest. It’s a ghost of brown knuckles scraping across my skin. I touch at the spot with my fingertips, trying to recreate the feeling. There was nothing platonic about that contact, I’m sure of it. Eren and I have touched a lot before, in the form of hair ruffling and gentle punches, but this was different. It was intimate, subtle and careful - he was testing the waters. Being bold in a way I could never be by making the first move. 

Shit. I shut the faucet off, and it sputters to a stop. I can hardly believe my life. Finding out that not just one, but two people have feelings for me in less than a day? It’s hard to process. People have liked me before, sure, but it’s usually been girls drawn in by my reputation that never wanted to stick around when I couldn’t let my walls down for them. This is different. Erwin and Eren are some of the only people I’ve ever let in, and somehow they’re both still interested. Surely this can’t be real. I feel like I’m in an old episode of the Twilight Zone, and I can’t decide whether I want it to end or not. 

I wipe moisture off the mirror opposite the showers and look at myself, trying to find an attractive feature. There’s no way my personality reels potential suitors in, so there must be something physical I’m not picking up on. I’m short as fuck. My face is all angles and lines, and it makes me look mean. My physique isn’t bad, I guess. I flex an arm and watch muscles rolling under my skin. But there are army guys who are way more built than me, and fitter too. My eyes wander downward. I’ve got a decent cock, and I’m good in bed, but not everyone has had the pleasure of experiencing this. And then there’s my scars. White lines creep around my front, up and down my spine, and run down my leg. They throb as I look at them. I throw my uniform back on, feeling unsatisfied with my findings. I am, as I suspected, exceedingly average. Not like Erwin, with his piercing blue eyes and blond hair. Not like Eren, who is so good-looking it hurts. Nobody should be allowed to be that gorgeous, especially out here where filth and sweat is everywhere. And I know he’s popular too - he’s mentioned trysts with girls from high school in passing. It’s hardly surprising since he’s funny and so easy to talk to. It seems bizarre that he might want me. 

Or does it? I light a cigarette outside the showers, putting off going back into the tent for another minute or two to dwell on this. We actually get on. We make each other laugh. He always looks happy to see me, and he stares sometimes. I’ve even noticed it before, but I’ve passed it off because of my deep-rooted social ineptitude. Maybe it’s not so strange after all. Maybe I need to work on my self-confidence. Suddenly the floodgates open, and my brain’s filled with the strangest images. Pulling him in for a kiss in Central Park. Sharing a beer on Hange’s old couch while our knees touch. Lying down together under my comforter, running hands all over each other. He’s smiling in all of these little vignettes, casting a warm light over them. I long for each scenario so much that I feel a lump in my throat. God, this is embarrassing. Eren touches me once, and I essentially start planning our wedding. I toss my butt on the ground and step on it to extinguish it. 

The gates are closing now that dusk is settling over the camp like a thick blanket. Soldiers trail toward the mess hall, looking about as shattered as I feel. News of today’s loss has spread through the remaining troops, and it’s at times like these that I’m thankful I’m not involved in direct conflict. Survivor’s guilt is the worst fucking feeling, and I’m sure it’s forefront in a lot of people’s minds right now. At least being a medic gives you a little distance, but even I can feel it start to creep in. People are dying around me, and all I’m doing is obsessing over ridiculous melodrama. It’s selfish. I need to get over myself and focus on my job. I push my wet hair out of my eyes. There’s a chill in the air now, and goosebumps are starting to develop on my forearms. For once I won’t mind the stuffy heat of the tent. 

It’s late for rounds, so it’s unusually quiet inside. I relieve a haggard-looking Petra from the rest of her rounds. Most of our patients have been checked out, and faint sounds of deep breathing flood the space. Thank god Jones hasn’t started snoring yet. I bypass our triage list, leaving Eren for last so that I can spend a bit more time with him. He’s sitting up under the faint glow of a torch strung up above his head, providing a miniscule enough amount of light for him to try and read a book. It’s a dog-eared old tome, and I can’t imagine where he’s managed to get it from. His brow’s furrowed in concentration and his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he reads. I try and make out the title as I wander over to his bed, but it’s bathed in thick shadow. As if I’d know shit about books anyway. I lower myself down onto a stool positioned next to his bed, and let loose a loud grunt. Never say I don’t know how to be sexy. 

“Hey.” I’m speaking as softly as I can, so I don’t draw too much attention to us. As if I didn’t just groan like an old cobbler. Eren looks up, and suddenly I can tell he hasn’t really been reading. Is he trying to stay awake to talk to me? He smiles cautiously when he catches my eye. An uncertainty hovers between us. We both know that a line in our relationship’s been crossed, but a room full of sweaty, masc soldiers who are missing limbs is hardly the space to address it. 

“Hey yourself.” This is unusually coy for him. At this time of night, I don’t really mind it. I’m fucking bone-weary. I can’t hold a decent conversation at the best of times, let alone now. But knowing Eren, he’s going to want to keep chatting. And he does. 

“I want to go for a smoke.”

Of course he wants to, I think. “Not tonight.” I say this as I start to unwrap the dressing around his leg. It’s doing very well. I start to inspect it in the dim lighting, and see no cause for concern. It’s scabbing over nicely. Eren’s obviously disappointed by my curt response, so I try to elaborate. “I need to keep a close eye on the newbies.” I open a new packet of wipes, and douse one in disinfectant, before applying it to his wound. He shivers a little on contact, but he tries to hide it with a laugh. 

“Actually doing your job for once, huh?” I appreciate the attempt at humour, but my energy for banter right now is pretty goddamn low, so I settle for giving him a tired little smile. Catching his eye is nice, I realise. The tension wound so tightly into my muscles drops a little when my body recognises I’m in a safe space. Who would have thought my crush on this boy extended so far into the corporeal. I can’t resist it. He’s looking at me, eyes half-lidded from his own exhaustion, giving me a concerned smile. 

“You must be tired.” 

“I am.” This leaks out before I can stop it. I sigh deeply. I am tired. I’m tired of death, I’m tired of pain, and I’m tired of war. And I feel so safe around Eren. I have to blow off some steam, so I tell him how I’ve been feeling all day. The words leave my mouth feeling dry and sticky, but I force them out as quietly as I can so the other guys in the tent can’t hear. “I really am. I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

I’m wrapping a fresh bandage around Eren’s stump, but I can’t resist a quick glance to see how he responds to my words. He’s still got that lovely expression on. That one that says “you may be a cantankerous old bastard, but I see you and I care.” It makes me want to press a kiss to his knee, but I decide kissing another man’s leg in the presence of others is not the best way to conceal one’s rampant bisexuality. 

“You know my dad was a doctor too?”

His dad. His missing dad. “No, I didn’t.”

He’s staring off past my shoulder, a faint smile on his face. “Yeah, he was. He was an oncologist.” His eyes flicker to me for a moment, as if to check I’m still listening. I give him a little nod, encouraging him to continue. “He loved his job, but it was hard. He was a real people person, not like you.” We both share a chuckle at that. “He liked getting to know his patients, so it always really got to him when people died. He always said it was worth it though, for the ones he managed to save.” He bumps my hand with his good leg in a tender, comforting gesture. “You’re doing important work, Levi. I mightn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.” 

It’s sweet, but it’s a stock-standard response, and doesn’t do much to settle my soul. I sigh, emptying my lungs of air. “I just…” Is he ready for my existential angst? Only one way to find out. “It all seems so pointless. Patching soldiers up just to send them back out for slaughter.” 

Eren’s quiet for a second, and when I look at him after I’ve secured his fresh dressing, he looks sad. “I understand how easy it is to get disillusioned out here, but just hold on to the bigger picture, okay? It’s not a needless sacrifice. We’re fighting to protect our people, and you’re playing such a big part in that. You need to have a bit more hope.”

I’ve been doing well to skirt around these topics with him in the past few days, so hearing Eren speak so patriotically blindsides me yet again. He lost his mom, I remind myself. Kid’s allowed to come out with some bizarre ideas. But this rhetoric still doesn’t sit well with me, and right now, after what I’ve seen today, I don’t want to be the bigger person and let it slide just yet. The idea that some sacrifices can be justified for the sake of the greater good feels a little monstrous. “I know that’s what I’m supposed to think. I just don’t know if I agree.”

I remember the iciness in the air the last few times we got to talking along these lines. That same defensive tone creeps in again. “What do you mean?” 

I take a risk, and look him dead-on for this one. “What are we doing here, Eren?”

His eyes are wild. He answers in clipped sentences which could have been lifted from recent presidential addresses. “We’re fighting a war against terror. We’re striking back against an organisation that took so many innocent American lives.” Maybe he just watches too much TV, but it’s chilling how emotionlessly he delivers these words. As if he’s hardly talking about people at all. I don’t like to argue politics, mostly because what goes on in the White House has never felt particularly relevant to my own life, but this issue is starting to feel a bit too important to sweep under the rug. And because this is Eren, I want to talk about how I feel. We communicate so well. Like he said a few days ago, we get each other. If anyone should be able to understand my point of view, it’ll be him, I’m sure of it. So I keep pressing. 

“And costing so many more in the process. Not just American ones. Look at where we are!” I gesture at the tent around us for lack of any visible scenery. “We’re camping out in an empty town. You know why it’s empty? Because of us! We’re making this country uninhabitable for the people it belongs to. Do you ever think about how many people we displace chasing after such a small organisation?” My heated tone takes me by surprise, and Eren responds in kind. His volume’s gone from murmur to full on shout. 

“I don’t like it any more than you do!” People start to stir in their beds. I shush Eren, and he brings it down to a whisper. His teeth are gritted, and consonants hiss between them. “But we have no choice!”

“There’s always a choice.”

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. When he finally responds his tone is more reasoned, but the meaning behind his words is still so off kilter. “I guess you’re right. There’s always a choice, but there’s so much to weigh up! War’s horrible and cruel, but sometimes it’s just necessary. I love my people, and I love my country. I’d do anything to keep it safe.” We’re playing the same game here, both desperately trying to convince the other of their own point of view. Both chasing each other’s understanding and respect, while stubbornly holding onto their own. I don’t want to be the first to concede.

“At the expense of the lives of others? The people who live here deserve more than just being a backdrop for a conflict we’re playing out.” I think of the empty houses again. It makes me sick. 

Eren tries again. “I know they do! I don’t like suffering either, Levi. It’s just…” His voice cracks. “Terror is such a threat to us! You know what I’ve been through! I couldn’t just do nothing. I couldn’t just forget. Whatever it takes, I don’t want anyone else to have to live with what’s happened to me and Mikasa.” Tears are welling up in his eyes now, and I realise I’m being an asshole. It’s all well and good for me to debate this issue with my level of distance from it, but for Eren it’s deeply personal. Suddenly it’s Eren I see in an empty house - Eren and Mikasa, sitting at a table, waiting in vain for their parents to come home. I’m being selfish. Why do I need him to agree with me so badly right now? Shouldn’t I just accept him as he is? I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to draw him in and hold him close to my chest, but as usual our present company provides a frustrating obstacle. I settle for something more subtle instead. I lean forward and brush my knuckles against his chest for a moment. It’s so quick nobody else will notice it in the dim light, but I’m convinced Eren will know what it means. He shuts his eyes at the contact, and breathes deeply. We hover with a heavy silence between us as I struggle to think of something placating to say. I don’t want to fight. I just want to see him laugh. 

“I’m sorry, kid. It’s been a big day. I hear you.” I whisper. 

This seems to do the trick. He smiles a small smile before cracking his eyes open again. That soft look is back, and I’m so glad to see it. I’m so glad I haven’t fucked things up. “I know. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I’d be pessimistic as fuck if I’d had a day like yours. It’ll get better.”

I highly doubt it will, but I’m committed to burying this disagreement for the sake of our friendship. For the greater good. I suppose maybe I do get where the kid’s coming from after all. “Yeah.” God, I wish I could smoke right now. Like he’s reading my mind, Eren speaks up again.

“Do you think we could go out for a cigarette together after your shift?” I love the way he says together. I’d go anywhere together with him. I return his smile the best I can. 

“I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversations about problematic nationalistic rhetoric are feeling particularly pertinent right now... I hope everyone's looking after themselves x


	9. Caught Out There

The light of day shines a brand new perspective on things. I don’t know if I’m making crucial revelations about life, or if I just haven’t slept for almost a day and I’m feeling the consequences. I think both can be true at once. It was around 4:30am, while I was getting into one of Erwin’s half-melted Hershey’s bars that he stashes behind one of the cabinets in recovery, that I saw the light. Literally. Come on, don’t expect any ground-breaking poetry from me at this point. A gust of wind blew one of the tent’s flaps open, and light from a passing soldier on night patrol shone through into the tent. I followed the warm line with my gaze. One of the beds, near the centre of the tent, was fully illuminated.

It was Eren’s, his face bathed in the fluorescence of the guard’s standard issue torch. The light didn’t wake him, but he furrowed his brows slightly in response to the disturbance. His expression was so dear that I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I stood up. My sleep-deprived brain screamed at me, telling me to go over there and hop into his cot. Wrap my arms around him and whisper into his ear. Blood buzzed like bees in my hands, making me itch to reach out and put my hands on him. Bury my face into his spine and breathe him in. The sensation was so rich and strong it almost made me feel sick. In that delirious moment, I needed Eren like I need oxygen. Like I need smokes and whiskey. 

And then the tent whipped shut and I was bathed in darkness again. I stood in my spot, next to the stool and the sanitising station, for god knows how long. I waited for my blood to stop fizzing inside my veins. It was only after my cardiac system had cooled down that I was hit with a wave of clarity. My epiphany was multifaceted.

Firstly, I’m mad about Eren. I haven’t been able to deny it since day one. He’s hot, he’s nice, and he interests me. People never interest me, but I actually give a flying fuck what comes out of his mouth. I’ve never experienced a crush like this before, and it’s pretty special. It’s a nice feeling to like someone. Heart-wrenching, sweaty and uncomfortable, but really nice. It reminds me I’m human. 

What’s more mind-blowing is my second point. Eren likes me. I was too pig-blind to get it for a little while there, and I don’t have any idea to what extent my feelings are reciprocated, but he’s interested too. Enough to want to touch me. Enough to want to spend time alone with me, and enough to attempt to pull back on his staunch nationalistic beliefs when he’s talking to me. Slightly. If that’s not love and respect out here in Afghanistan, what is? If we had met in New York, I might even have asked him out. Or just back to my place for dinner and sex. We could have smoked cigarettes on my deck. We could have ridden the subway together carrying bags of groceries. Images of what could have been shimmer in front of my eyes like a kaleidoscope’s vision. 

Because the third point isn’t kaleidoscope vision. It’s real life, painting itself on a canvas in front of me in thick strokes of green, brown, grey and blood red. Eren and I aren’t in New York. We’re in the army, on occupied territory. We’re in the American army, governed by a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. We can hardly wander the outskirts of our encampment gaily together holding hands. Attraction to men out here isn’t technically against the rules, but it may as well be. We’re fucked if anyone has been watching us too closely. This realisation shut the door on my fantasies as swiftly as the tent’s flaps closed in the breeze. The colourful dreams of a future where I can date a man were plunged into darkness just like me, standing alone on a tarpaulin floor, surrounded by sleeping soldiers. 

So now it’s almost seven and I’m trying to reconcile my overly complex thoughts. Breakfast has been handed around, and Eld’s just come in to relieve me. I’m desperate for bed. This grave shift has almost wrecked me, but I’ve promised Eren a cigarette, and what Eren wants from me, he gets. His sister is with him again. They’re talking in hushed voices, her arms wrapped around him possessively. Eren’s holding onto one of her wrists. It’s a wonderfully intimate scene in which she looks like a loving mother holding onto a wayward child. This makes me realize that I don’t know the age difference between the two of them. Is Eren the older sibling, or the younger? I make a mental note to ask. As I’m thinking this, he glances my way. It’s only a second, but we lock gazes. His eyes soften, and he gives me a little wave. I shoot him a raised brow in return which I hope hides the way my legs go boneless when I see him smile. Now more than ever, it’s important to play it cool. 

Whatever this is between us, it’s not going to work out. Kenny’s a gambling man, and I see visions of him cackling at me behind my lids when I blink. “Crappy odds, son!” He’s saying, with a Coors Light or something similarly foul he managed to pinch from the local liquor store clutched tightly in his hand. “Don’t fuckin’ risk it, or you’ll be out of pocket!” And he’s right. A risk like this has the potential to put Eren and I out of a job. I don’t have much respect left for my work, and I wouldn’t hesitate to leave on the next flight out if I got the chance, but I’m old and disillusioned. Eren is young and passionate, and he loves the army. I don’t want to compromise that for him, or do anything to jeopardize his pension. It’s a stupid risk to take on account of a chemical balance we’re probably both experiencing as a result of not having jerked off in an unholy amount of time. Romance just isn’t viable. No matter how tempting it is to let go, let my feelings lead, I need to be pragmatic right now. I need to shut this down, for both of our sakes. 

Mikasa’s left now, and I can feel Eren watching me as I scrub down, clearing grit from underneath my fingernails. This is the last time I’ll take him out with me, I’m resigned to it. I’m just not sure how to break it to him yet. I’m not cut out for these kinds of conversations. I would be anxious, but I’m far too fucking exhausted. A nausea is settling in my stomach, the subtle kind that comes from tiredness. I dry my hands off and head over to him. If he could try not to look so excited to see me, that would make this a whole lot easier. Ugh. His grin threatens to spread to my face, but I suppress it. 

“Ready to head out?”

“Maybe in ten minutes. I’m very busy watching Anderson pick his nose.” 

I hate how funny I find him. I unfold the wheelchair and he shimmies down the bed, hoisting himself into it. Impressive. He’s adjusting to one-legged life well. 

It’s actually raining today. I think it might be the third time since we’ve arrived here. It smells like warm concrete. The dusty haze in the air has cleared, freshening up the encampment. I breathe in deeply, and Eren extends his arms, catching small droplets on his exposed skin. They settle in his hair, making it glisten under the low light creeping in through thick clouds hovering above us. God, I’m sleep-deprived. Everything about this morning feels surreal. The cacophony of soldiers doing daily drills melts together into a low, ethereal hum. My legs move sticky and slow, like I’m in a dream. Eren’s talking to me, but I can’t make out individual words. With his back to me, they sound like a low drone. It’s a relief to finally reach the old well and face him so I can read his lips, see his expression. Still, I struggle to tune back in. So I hunt through my pockets and focus on rolling. My pouch is getting dangerously low. I’ll need to ask Erwin to order me another. I catch Eren’s eye when I hand his over. His brows are furrowed in concern as he lights up. 

“Are you alright?” 

I’m not sure. That’s the answer I want to give him. But that deep shit isn’t conducive to keeping emotional distance, so I settle for something more non-committal. “I’m fine.” 

He takes a drag, glancing off towards the hills in the distance as he inhales. Raindrops are falling heavier now, forming a light sheen on his skin. Wheelchair and missing leg aside, he looks like a model from the Hollister ads plastered on billboards back home. I can’t help but stare at his muscled arms. Standard-issue wife beaters have never looked so good. He looks back at me as my gaze makes its way down his chest. Shit. Caught checking him out, and I think he knows it. He cocks his head and blows smoke out of his nose. 

“Levi, can I ask you something?” 

The atmosphere is suddenly crackling with tension. I’m desperate to diffuse it. “You just did.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking. “Don’t be a smartass.”

He lounges against one arm of his chair, keeping his eyes trained on mine. This is a crucial moment, I can feel it. Unsaid words buzz around our heads in a swarm. 

“Are you into guys?”

There it is. The million dollar question that I’m absolutely dying not to answer. I’m shit scared of this conversation. One wrong step and my heavy feelings will come heaving out of my gut like bile. I can’t risk it. So I pluck a wonderfully vague answer from the air.

“Ever heard of “don’t ask, don’t tell”?”

I don’t know why I thought shutting this conversation down would be easy. I know Eren well enough by now to know he’s as stubborn as a ram. What was it he said to me when we first met? A typical Aries? All he’s currently missing is the horns - he’s got the piercing stare down pat. “I’m not asking so I can rat you out.” 

I take a drag, trying to paint a picture of nonchalance. “Why do you want to know then?”

He’s maneuvered his chair a little, so he’s facing me head-on. His next words come out with a quiet confidence. “Because I’m interested.” 

I knew it. My heart starts palpitating. I squeeze my cigarette’s butt so hard I almost squash it. I knew he was interested in me, but it’s so different to hear it from his mouth. It makes me so fucking happy. I want to bask in it, but I’m a man on a mission to continue deflecting. I turn and lean against the well to escape his intense gaze. 

“You shouldn’t ask people this kind of stuff out of curiosity, kid.”

He ashes his cigarette in a frustrated gesture. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. I’m interested in you, Levi.” A fresh bout of palpitations hit me. Am I about to have a heart attack? It feels hot, despite the rain. I inhale smoke sharply, trying to calm down. Eren keeps talking. “You’re good at skirting around issues, you know that?” 

I shrug. “I may have been told a couple of times.” Very casual. Perfect.

Suddenly Eren laughs, and I almost jump out of my skin. I look over at him. His expression is inexplicably playful. I can’t keep up with this. He taps a leg against one of mine.

“Sure, I can work with that.” His eyes glisten. “How about we make this easy? I’ll tell you what I think, and you just nod or shake your head. Yeah?” 

I’m not happy with where this is going. I’ve lost control of our conversation entirely, and I don’t know how to regain it. I contemplate sprinting away, but I can hardly leave an amputee alone in the rain. So I settle for nodding dumbly. This just makes him smile wider. 

“I think you like me. In a more-than-just-buddies kinda way. I think that’s what you were trying to tell me yesterday. Am I right?”

Maybe I’ll jump into the well. I’ve lived an alright life. I try and will my legs to move, but they’re stuck to the ground. I’m transfixed by Eren’s words. I know this can’t work out. I know it’s not viable, but there’s a large part of me that wants it so bad. I want to say that I like him and hear his response, but I swallow it down in favour of standing there staring at him like a muppet. Luckily (or unluckily, I’m really not so sure anymore) my silence does nothing to discourage him. 

“I hope I’m right, because I really like you.” He’s digging us further and further down a hole I’m afraid I won’t want to climb out of. He doesn’t just like me, he really likes me. I can’t imagine what kind of expression I have on right now, but judging from the amusement on his face, it’s probably something close to “I ate some bad seafood at Red Lobster and I’m feeling the consequences”. Eren laughs again. “Don’t look so fucking shocked!! Surely I’ve made it pretty obvious? I flirt shamelessly with you often.”

I don’t know how he can just say things like this so easily. I can’t imagine talking like this unless I’m heavily inebriated, and even then, sappy statements come few and far between. He’s just laid it all out for me in the space of a couple of minutes at seven in the morning. And what’s worse is that I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all. He flirts with me. This is so ridiculously flattering. Our interactions in the last couple of weeks are suddenly rose-tinted. I’ve been punishing myself for lusting after him so hard, but knowing it wasn’t so one-sided after all makes me feel all heated. I want to communicate this to him, but I’m not sure where to start. I toe at the ground. Words come out of my mouth in a lame mumble. 

“I thought you were just naturally funny and charming.”

He smiles so widely at me, his cheeks darkened with flush. “Shucks.”

Then I frown. “And straight.”

Eren sighs. His cigarette sits forgotten between his fingers. It’s gone out. “I mean... I think I am. Or I thought I was. I’ve only ever been with girls before. But you’re blunt and handsome and street-smart and it just does things to me.” Are bluntness and street-smarts usually seen as attractive qualities? I guess I always knew this kid was unhinged. I think he recognises the doubt on my face, because he keeps talking. “Levi, you’ve saved me out here. Not just in a technical sense.” He gestures toward his leg. “Spending time with you is keeping me sane. Despite how you might describe yourself, I think you’re a very kind person.” 

This statement hits me so hard my chest aches. The warmth developing in my body drains away. Because it’s not true. 

Forget don’t ask, don’t tell. All that shit’s just been a smokescreen. My uncertainty about pursuing Eren is more deeply rooted, more internal. I’m afraid that if we get close, he will realise that there’s really not much to me apart from smoking, booze and bitterness. My veneer always peels away eventually, which is why I can count the number of friends I have on half a hand. I’m crap at intimacy, and I’m crap at being warm. It’s amazing that I’ve managed to hoodwink Eren thus far, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep it up. The vulnerability associated with being close to another person fills me with a deep sense of dread. Suddenly I can’t even believe I’ve let him in as far as I have. I feel raw and seen, and I hate it. My skin itches. This has to stop. 

“I’m really not.” I keep it short and blunt. Eren looks at me sadly, his gorgeous puppy dog eyes threatening to draw more feeling out of me. I stamp it down, like I should have been this whole time. 

“Levi…”

“I’m really not a nice person, Eren.” I cut him off. This time it works. He’s quiet, fidgeting, trying to think of a way over the wall I’m building between us. I’m not giving him any more time to figure it out. I toss my cigarette down and watch spots of rain spread across the paper. The rain’s getting harder now. I get behind him and grip his wheelchair. My knuckles are white.

“We should get you back.”

I can’t see his face, but his tone is evident. He’s getting angry. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got to say?” I can almost see him steaming. He tries to turn around in the chair, to look me in the eye, but it creaks and buckles. Thank god, to be honest. I don’t want to see him right now. He’s scary when he’s angry. He spits out a curse at me. “Fuck you then, man.” 

It hurts. I feel like shit. But it’s for the best. This couldn’t have gone anywhere. Still, an apology feels necessary. 

“Sorry.” 

Eren pulls a finger. I think I’ve gotten off lucky until he forces his foot against the ground, grinding his wheelchair to a halt. I lurch forwards. We’re getting closer to the encampment now, and there’s a group of soldiers standing around smoking near the showers. They’re within earshot. I internally scream at Eren to be quiet, not to make a scene. Luckily he has the sense to hiss quietly instead of shout. 

“Sorry?” He laughs mirthlessly. “Dude, you suck. I know you like me too. I’m not stupid. We have, like, a vibe.” 

One of the soldiers catches sight of us. I try to look as neutral as possible. I push the wheelchair, but Eren won’t let it give. “Just forget about it, kid.” I mutter. 

“No.” He’s getting louder. “We need to talk about this.” The whole group is watching now, whispering amongst themselves. Nosy bastards. Nosy bastards that can provide me with a convenient out. 

“We’ve got an audience, Eren.” His head whips around like he’s just remembered we’re not the only two people in the world. Suddenly he’s self-conscious. He rights himself in his chair and brushes his bangs back, trying to act natural. He takes his foot off the ground and I finally manage to push him forward. The cluster of soldiers is dead quiet as we walk by, and they break into laughter once we’re a few metres away. It’s awkward tittering, not anything malicious. I’m quite sure they didn’t overhear us. Eren is speaking quieter now, which is a godsend, but I’d still prefer silence. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll leave it for now.” His voice indicates that this is anything but fine. “Can we please talk about this soon?”

I have absolutely zero intention of talking about this ever again, but I don’t know how well this would go down if I said it out loud. So I just agree, in the interests of keeping the peace. 

“Sure.” 

I was expecting to feel a load off after shutting Eren down, but I just feel like a crappy person instead. An uncomfortable feeling churns in my stomach as I lie in my bunk, trying to shut out sounds of activity as I beg for sleep to take me. When I close my eyes, his face is all I see. Lit up with playful joy, downturned with a commiserating sadness. He’s so expressive. The complete opposite of me. I put my forearm over my face to try and block out the daylight. I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself. For me, and especially for him. He’s bright where I’m dark and brooding. He deserves better. We’re just not right. 

I try to convince myself, but I’m not sure it’s working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading, everyone! When I started writing this I was planning it to be twenty or so chapters but it's really taken on a life of its own so we're in for the long haul here. 
> 
> If you're enjoying it give it some love and drop a comment, reading what you all think really makes my day :)


	10. Don't See Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexual content

It’s another sleepless night. The wind’s picked up to a godawful pace, and it whistles past our tent. Fabric flaps loudly just above my head, and Eld’s snoring. Petra and Erwin’s bunks are empty - they’re both doing the grave shift tonight. Mike’s following a platoon on a high-risk mission. The emptier the tent, the more eerie I find the space. Strange-shaped shadows are cast across the empty beds, playing tricks on my eyes. I try to keep them shut, willing sleep to take me away. It’s futile. I can’t resist glancing at the alarm clock on my bedside. 2:18am. 

Through the wind, I hear the sound of footsteps approaching the tent. Sounds like a heavy, military-issue boot, which singles out literally nobody at the encampment. It shouldn’t be Erwin or Petra yet, unless something’s happened. I sit up in bed, adrenaline kicking in. The tent entrance’s velcro tears loudly as it’s opened. I look over at Eld, but it doesn’t wake him. 

The outline of the new arrival’s figure is tall. Far too tall to be Petra, but perhaps too short to be Erwin, and too lean. I squint, trying to make out a face in the dark. No such luck. My anxiety mounts when I remember we’re deep in enemy territory. I reach under my pillow and pull out my switchblade, gripping it tightly in my hand. 

“Who’s there?”

The figure moves closer. The light emitting from my alarm clock slowly starts to illuminate it. First I see boots, then US Army issue trousers, then a black wife beater. A key dangling on a chain comes into view. Wait. 

“Eren?” 

He’s close enough now for the clock to light his face up. He grins at me disarmingly, flashing his gorgeous set of teeth. Kid’s definitely had braces. I put my switchblade down at my bedside. It drops with a clatter.

“Hey, Doc.”

I stare at him uncertainly. “What are you doing here, kid? You shouldn’t be out of bed.” My brain slowly starts to put more pieces together. “How are you even out of bed? Your leg…”

Eren sits down on the edge of my cot, his weight rolling me towards him. It’s quite chilly, but he’s hot. He turns to face me, shooting a cheeky smirk. “What about my leg?” I try to shift forward so I can get a better look at it, but he places a hand on my chest and pushes me back down. Calluses on his palm scrape against my bare skin. I gulp. 

“It’s gone. I cut it off…” I start to lose focus when his hand moves against me. “Eren?” 

He’s not looking at my face anymore. He’s staring at my body, raking his eyes up and down my exposed abdomen. His hand follows his gaze. Blood starts roaring in my ears. The air rankles between us. God, it feels so good to be touched by him. I resist the urge to throw my head back and moan.

“Don’t worry about that, Levi.” He’s speaking in a voice I haven’t heard before. It’s deep and husky, and he moves his hand lower with each syllable. He coasts over my abs, towards the trail of dark hair that leads straight to the waistband of my briefs. I inhale sharply. “Let’s not think about it tonight.” Eren leans down to whisper in my ear. “I’ve been wanting you for so long.”

I’m hard. I’m painfully hard. His hand on my stomach, his voice in my ear, the smell of standard-issue soap in his hair mixing with something else that’s just so indescribably him. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on in my life, but there’s an uncertainty clinging to me. How can this even be real? I turn my head towards him, running my nose over his ear and the outline of his jaw, breathing him in. He shudders. I almost fucking lose it. 

“Can I touch you?” I match his volume. The ends of his hair tickle me. He pulls his head back slightly, so we’re face to face. His eyes are hooded, his cheeks frosted pink. I make out faint freckles on his nose. He chuckles lightly, his breath warm on my face. He smells like my cigarettes, and it ignites something primal in me. 

“Do you really think you have to ask?” 

We lunge for each other at the same time. I twist a hand in his hair, pulling him towards me. He cups my face, his other hand shifting to hold my waist. Eren lets out a low moan as our lips meet. God, he tastes good. I greedily lap away at his mouth. I know I’m being messy but I’m losing all reason. I want to taste him, to claim all of him, to fucking devour him. I bite his bottom lip. He snaps at the waistband of my briefs, runs his fingertips over my hip bones. I pull up his singlet to touch his smooth skin. We’re both panting hard, like feral animals. He pulls away first to gulp down air, and wipes some saliva from my bottom lip before starting to kiss down my neck. 

“Fuck, Eren.” At my mention of his name, he gives a hard suck. I groan. “We shouldn’t be doing this here. Eld could wake up.” Shit, we shouldn’t be doing this at all. Aren’t I meant to be avoiding him? His hand travels down to palm my cock over my briefs and a truly incomprehensible string of words comes out of my mouth. He looks at me with a devilish grin as he starts to rub. 

“I don’t care.” He punctuates his words with open-mouthed kisses that he plants on my chest. “You’re hot. I need you so badly.” His tongue swirls around my nipple. I bite my lip, hard. He trails his mouth down my body, keeping his eyes locked with mine. I don’t know if it’s possible to come from an intense sense of anticipation, but I swear I’m seconds away from blowing my load. I need his mouth on my dick more than I need air. 

He’s pulling me out of my underwear when a loud noise startles both of us. It’s my alarm clock. It’s too fucking early. I look over at it. It says 2:33. I reach my hand up, try and turn it off. It won’t stop. I swear loudly. Eren’s unsteady straddling me, like he’s suddenly realised he’s only got one leg. I try to support him, but he topples sideways off the bunk. The alarm’s still going. I turn to the side to try and help him off the floor, but he’s gone. 

I open my eyes and hit my alarm clock’s snooze button so hard it hurts. 11:00. It’s humid as hell today. I’m sweating all over, and my erection is killing me. There’s absolutely no way I’m sending myself for a communal shower like this. I glance over at Eld’s bed. His pillow’s pulled over his head. He’s often a heavy sleeper, and I pray that today is one of those days. 

This feels fucked up but it’s gotta be done. I put my hand down my briefs and wrap it around my leaking cock. Thumb the slit for a moment, and then start jerking furiously. It doesn’t take long with the images from my dream still fresh in my mind. I pant as I come hard, all over my stomach and my arm, thinking about Eren. Post-orgasm guilt sets in almost immediately afterward, and I feel like the most disgusting man lying there covered in my own spunk after a heated sex dream about a guy I’m supposed to be avoiding like the goddamn plague. I pull my briefs off and use them to wipe myself down. I need a shower, and possibly Jesus.

* * *

It’s been two days since my confrontation with Eren. Or lack thereof. Avoiding him is going surprisingly smoothly so far, on account of my shift turnaround. I’ve been on the grave shift twice, so our interactions mainly consist of me serving him dinner and changing his dressing in record time. His mood is up and down. The first night, he was calm, trying to whisper to me when the other guys weren’t looking. I just kept my head down and ignored it. The second night was different. I took a cupful of water to the face within seconds of sitting down. The entire tent held its breath. Murmurs were audible all around us. 

“Jaeger’s signed his death warrant.”

“Doctor Ackerman’s going to kill him.” 

“You know he was in a gang as a kid, right? He’s fucking scary. Only psycho Jaeger would be stupid enough to mess with him.” 

All of this tuned out when I looked in Eren’s eyes. He looked mad, sure, but he also looked hurt. I felt like such shit that I couldn’t find it in me to chew him out. I wiped the water off my face with the back of my sleeve, and headed outside for a smoke. Two later, I was still standing by the edge of the tent. Erwin came and stood next to me. 

“I changed Jaeger’s dressing.” 

Thank god. I nod in thanks. “Good.” 

Erwin sighed. “Levi, what’s happened between the two of you?” 

I could hardly tell him that I’m experiencing great emotional turmoil because the most amazing person confessed to me, and I had to turn him down because of various circumstantial and personal issues. It just doesn’t feel like something that you tell someone who is also secretly in love with you. Ugh. With Eren front and centre in my mind, I almost forgot about the Erwin problem. But I was at capacity, threatening to bubble over, so I decided to shunt that thought to the back of my mind. I gave Erwin a nice, easy answer that didn’t give away anything about the swirling cesspool that represented my current inner life. 

“Nothing. You know what he’s like. Anger management issues.” 

Even saying this felt like a huge betrayal. Sure, Eren’s not exactly the most stable person on the planet, but I like it. I think he’s brave for being so open. Erwin, as usual, picked up on my discomfort despite my attempt to mask it with flippant statements. Goddamn mind reader gets me every time.

“Go to bed.” What? I frowned at him, ready to argue, but he bulldozed over me. “You look exhausted. I’m switching you back to afternoon shift.” Business Erwin was at full power under the light of the moon streaming down onto us from the cloudless sky. I knew arguing was futile. I tried anyway.

“But you’ll be alone.”

He smiled down at me warmly. “Rounds are done. I can handle this. If I need help, I’ll buzz for Petra.” 

I was actually so fucking grateful I almost hugged Erwin, but I settled for a pat on the shoulder instead. His eyes widened in surprise, and suddenly I felt all awkward. I withdrew my hand quickly. 

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” His face was blank, but his eyes were sad. The distance between us felt great again. I wanted to bridge it, but I didn’t know how, so I settled for trudging off and giving him a one-handed wave.

And now I’m facing a great dilemma. I’m on an afternoon shift with Eren, where he’s actually going to be awake, and I just wanked to a steamy sex dream about him. Images of his mouth on my body keep flashing through my head. And now the floodgates are opened, my stupid fucking brain is generating a whole lot more. Me on my knees for him. His hand knotted in my hair as I push him down my throat. I want to know what his face looks like when he comes. 

This is really really not good. Apart from the very pressing concern that I’m in danger of popping a boner when I get near him, the dream serves as a reminder that ignoring my attraction to him is not making it go away. I like him, and I want him, but I know I shouldn’t have him. It actually aches. No amount of nicotine in my system helps. I’ve made a healthy dent in the new pouch Erwin gave me, but it’s not doing anything for my cortisol levels. I’ve been standing outside the tent in the scorching midday sun for almost fifteen minutes trying to calm down enough to go inside, and I’m sweating bullets. Droplets threaten to break from my hairline and travel down my face. It takes Petra wandering out and spotting me to jerk me out of my doom-spiralling. She looks at the venerable army of cigarette butts littered around my feet in judgement. 

“You really need to cut down, Levi.”

I have to agree, but this is definitely not the time to quit my only available vice. I follow her in like I’m walking from death row towards the electric chair. The oppressive heat is worse than ever. All eyes are on me after my premature departure last night. I wipe the moisture off my brow with a paper towel before I scrub in. 

Rounds are an exercise in suspense. I get closer and closer to Eren. I can feel his presence, thick, heavy and ominous behind me. Focusing on other people’s injuries is damn near impossible. I spill disinfectant all over someone’s bed. I pinch skin as I pull stitches. It’s fucked. It doesn’t help that everyone’s dead quiet as I finally reach the foot of his cot. Luckily lunch has already been and gone, and I note a very distinct lack of projectiles near his bed. Either they’ve been removed, or he’s hurled all of them prior to my arrival. At least it means I’m safe. Unless he punches me, I think. I try to sit down out of arm’s length. 

“Afternoon.” 

He doesn’t respond. Okay, the silent treatment I can deal with. I start unwrapping the bandage on his leg when his voice startles me. 

“Take me outside.” 

I look up at him in surprise. He’s not asking. He’s telling me what to do. I break eye contact before I answer. I’m not surrendering. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” He gestures around us. “You’ve almost finished rounds. You’ve got nothing better to do.” 

He’s got me there. I flounder for a moment before I come up with a response. 

“I can’t. I’m taking Jones out today.” 

Jones, parked on the next bed over, sits up straight. “What?” 

Maybe I should do improv, I think to myself. I’m not half bad. “Yup. Doctor Smith has asked me to make sure all the patients get some outdoor time. You…” I look at Eren from under my brows to emphasise this point, “have had too much lately. It’s not fair on the others.”

Eren frowns, but he can’t argue. I’m internally celebrating my victory in this battle when Jones pipes up and ruins my life. 

“All due respect, Doctor Ackerman, but I don’t really want to go outside with you. I’m happy to let you take Jaeger and wait until nursey over there’s free to take me.” 

I could literally strangle him right now. I can’t believe Erwin and I saved this asshole’s life. I level him with a death stare, and he flinches. “Nursey? You mean Doctor Ral?” What a pig. This misogyny has momentarily derailed me, and Eren takes advantage of the moment. 

“Great! If Jones doesn’t want to go, I’m happy to take his place.”

Shit. If this approach isn’t working, I’ll try another. Intimidation is a particular talent of mine. I ignore Eren’s opportunism, and give Jones my best I’ll-fucking-end-you glare. “Petra has way better things to do than reject pathetic advances from an ugly bastard like you outside, Jones. You’re coming out with me, and if you’re really so desperate for some action I’ll let you suck my cock.” Closeted bisexual army doctor rule number one: sometimes saying the gayest things to other men can make you sound straight. Jones is white as a sheet. Hopefully I’ve shut him up for good. I turn back to Eren, and realise I’ve made a grave mistake.

I should not have mentioned cock-sucking. Visions of my dream spring to the forefront of my mind which are completely at odds with the pissed off expression on Eren’s face. It’s a shit feeling, having rampant sexual fantasies about a guy who’s mad at you because you’re avoiding him. I finish bandaging his leg as quickly as possible, and move on to the next bed. 

Now that I’ve promised Jones a spin outside in the wheelchair, all the other soldiers are wanting it too. Damn. After rounds, I spend hours walking the shitheads around the fence-line of our encampment. It’s almost comically awkward. We hardly speak. Peters is particularly uncomfortable, clearly still afraid that I might shank him, and only lets me take him as far as the well-populated areas. I miss Eren keenly. Nobody’s got a patch on him. I want someone to give me cheek, to talk back, but the rapport just isn’t the same. By the time we hit dinner, I’ve had enough. Unwanted socialisation has drained me. I can’t even muster up a conversation with Petra, who is clearly aware of the weird vibes I’ve been giving off and wants to be filled in. Anderson asks when it’s his turn, and I lose my rag. Guy’s missing an eye. An eye! I’m not pushing his lardass around when he can walk himself. I go outside by myself and pollute my lungs again, cursing all of the imbeciles I’m surrounded with, but cursing myself most of all. 

Three more months. It feels like an eternity. How the fuck am I supposed to avoid Eren for such an extended period? These last few days have felt like torture. Sure, Erwin has mentioned plans to get the amputees flown back home, since they’re a dead weight and a drain on our resources. This can’t happen soon enough. Maybe on Eren’s last day, we can talk. I can finally be straight with him. But what would be the point? There’s no way this dalliance has any chance of longevity. I can’t see Eren sustaining an interest in me back on home soil, where he has a life and friends and girls that want to sleep with him. I’ve probably only caught his eye because of how limited his options are here. Some misplaced sense of boredom, or maybe even Stockholm syndrome-esque symptoms. I’m certainly somewhat of a jailer, having stolen his mobility. 

Shit. For once in my life, I’ve smoked too many cigarettes. My lungs feel heavy, and my hands tingle for lack of oxygen. I force myself back into the tent, begging for the rest of this shift to fly by. Sleep is currently my only respite. Maybe tonight, I can have another dream about Eren. One where we chat shit and laugh. One where I can be real and honest about my feelings like he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with the lovely responses I got on the last chapter, thank you so much for the kind support! It motivated me to chug this one out faster so I hope you all enjoy <3
> 
> I have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1xfEzq59mxZ2oW8WgvkV70?si=KKLjVsYtQ7eGJz-17vOHQw) for this fic. It's not really accurate time-wise, as a lot of the songs on it were released after 2003, but it helps me get into the zone when I'm writing and encompasses the sad and angry boy vibe this story is drenched with (as well as some of the more romantic scenes we will get into soon). Feel free to give it a listen if ya like!
> 
> I'm over on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/justtoclairethingsup/?hl=en) if you like to see images of cheap wine and cigarettes x


	11. Come As You Are

The clock is crawling along. Tick, tick, tick. I feel each incremental shift of its hands in my soul. Half an hour until changeover. Half an hour of avoiding Eren. Petra’s dealing to our newest patient, a guy whose dislocated shoulder we reset together an hour ago. Honestly, cracking it back into place was a cathartic outlet for my frustration. I could do with a couple more bones to crack to pass the time. As it stands, waiting for bedtime is killing me. There are things I should be doing - topping up the sanitising station, a bit of general tidying. But all of these bitsy jobs involve walking straight through the danger zone that is Eren’s eyeline. Thankfully, he’s been quiet all day, but his sharp eyes follow me around the tent. Now he’s lying down in his cot, but the light from Petra’s torch at the other end of the tent casts a shadow over his face. I can’t tell if he’s asleep or awake. His breathing looks even. 

Maybe I can risk it. I stand up and walk towards the cabinets. The tarpaulin floor crinkles under the soles of my boots. For once I’m internally begging for someone to start snoring. I fetch sanitiser and a fresh pack of paper towels. My journey back is interrupted by a familiar hissing.

“Levi!” Fuck. Eren’s sitting up, one hand raised in a tongue-in-cheek gesture. “Hey! Remember me?” 

“What do you want?” 

He lounges back against his bed frame. “I’m thirsty.” 

Damn. I can hardly deny a patient water, even if the likelihood of said water ending up all over me is quite high. I reluctantly fetch him some from the purifier. Surprisingly, he downs it all, and hands the cup back. 

“Thank you.” He offers me an uncomfortable little smile. Have I finally beaten him down into submission? I’m not sure I like it. How messed up is that? Being chased by him stresses me out immeasurably, but at the same time I don’t want him to stop. I want him to keep wanting me. 

“You’re welcome.” We regard each other in the low light for a moment. 

“Have you replaced me with Jones, now?” Is he joking around with me? I think so. I know I should cut and run, but the temptation to play along is too strong. 

“Yes, I have.” We both look over at his bed. He’s lying there, open-mouthed, a wide trail of saliva pooling next to his ruddy face on his pillow. Gross. “He’s endlessly more intelligent and funny than you.” 

Eren laughs. It’s such a dear sight, but there’s a sadness to it. He pushes hair back off his forehead. “Had to happen eventually, I suppose. I just can’t compete with the likes of him.” 

“Hm.” I’m lingering, torn between wanting to talk and needing to escape. The latter wins out. I turn on my heel, so I can no longer see his eyes. It helps a little. “Night then, Jaeger.” Build the walls back up. 

I don’t know why I assumed he would remain docile. “Oh, come on, Doctor Ackerman.” This is said with a heavy sarcastic inflection. “Talk to me.” 

I pass the foot of his bed, and head back to my seat. Increasing the distance between us does nothing to shut him up. 

“Oi! Levi!” 

I’ve never known anyone who could turn a whisper into such a shout. It carries through the entire tent. I try to pretend like I can’t hear it, busying myself with rolling a cigarette. Maybe if I chain-smoke about ten he’ll be asleep by the time I get back in. 

He’s not giving up. “Levi!” The other patients are starting to get rattled. Someone tells Eren to shut the fuck up and hurls something at him, which is precisely what I feel like doing at this moment in time. It clatters against the end of his bed, but it doesn’t stop him. Anderson starts yelling. 

“Jaeger, can you at least keep your scene-causing for daylight hours?” 

Eren fires back a retort. “Piss off, Anderson! Mind your own business!” 

Oh god. I’m not going to be held responsible if there’s a mutiny amongst our injured, and I don’t have the conflict resolution skills to deal with this. Petra’s probably more suited for the job. I do what any sensible person in my situation would do - I get the fuck out. How much damage are a bunch of amputees going to be able to do to each other anyway? 

Outside is cool and calm, and I can breathe so much better away from Eren. I enjoy a few minutes worth of peace and quiet until I hear familiar sounds. Shuffling and creaking from inside the tent. It’s the sound of someone walking on age-old crutches. I eye the tent’s entrance with a sense of apprehension, clutching my second cigarette between my fingers.

Eren emerges, struggling with the flap that catches on his head. He swats it off angrily before locking eyes with me. I’m standing stock-still, hoping that he won’t notice me if I don’t make any sudden moves. This is futile. He’s fast approaching, and he’s furious, his green eyes blazing. Despite struggling with his crutches, he’s an intimidating figure. And now he’s outside, he’s not whispering anymore. He’s upgraded to shouting. 

“What the hell is your problem, dude?” 

“Shut up, Eren.” I hiss. He’s going to wake the entire encampment at this point. I try to back us away from the tent, from more populated areas. It’s quiet out, with a few regiments out on a scouting mission, and the majority of the other soldiers in bed. I spot torchlight from a guard patrolling the fence line and lead Eren into the shadows behind the latrines where the makeshift structure intersects with the concrete outer wall of the mess hall. He’s charging forward towards me, slow and awkward on his crutches. Exertion’s evident on his features as he gets closer. Upon closing the distance between us, he swings his right crutch in a sweeping motion. I’m nonplussed until he swings it again. It hits my shin. Hard. 

“Ouch!” 

He swings it again. This time it gets my ankle. I’m not letting him hit me a third time. I step back a meter, out of his range. He responds by hurling his crutch straight at my head. I dodge just in time, feeling it graze past my hair. It hits the wall with a clatter. Eren sways a little from the impact of his throw but manages to stay upright, leaning his weight on his left crutch. We stare at each other for a few seconds as he pants. 

I can’t help it. I start laughing. Hard. I fucking drop my cigarette, and scramble to pick it up. This just heaps fuel on his fire. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” 

I’m wiping tears from my eyes. “Sorry Eren. It’s just…” A fresh bout of giggles hit me. I clutch my sides, trying to pull myself together. “Did you seriously just throw your crutch at me?” 

“Damn right I did, you asshole!” He retorts angrily. 

“How are you planning on getting around now, one-legged wonder?” 

“What the fuck kind of doctor talks to their patients like that?!”

This is a fair question that just makes me laugh harder. It shows no signs of stopping. I wheeze, gulping in air, and eventually, it starts to derail him. The deep furrow in his brow evens out a little, his eyes start to soften. I see the ghost of a smile start to creep onto his features, but he’s trying to hold it back. He scratches at his face sheepishly with his free hand. “Yes, I did hurl my crutch at you. Might not have been the smartest move now that I’m stuck here, but… I’m mad at you, okay?” He takes a deep breath. “Can you give it back, please?”

I stick my cigarette between my lips, and bend down to pick his crutch up. I’m still grinning. It’s such an Eren thing to do - sacrifice his mobility in a moment of blind rage. I find it so endearing. Holding the crutch in one hand, I stop a couple of feet away from him, and take him in. I’ve never met someone so utterly paradoxical. Such a blend of anger and raw strength, underlined by emotional vulnerability and a childlike temperamentality. Am I insane for thinking that this must be perfection? 

I hold the crutch just slightly out of his reach and smirk. “Come and get it then.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling in earnest now. “You’re so mean.” 

“You’re the one who gave my shins a battering. How do I know you’re not going to javelin it at me again?” I’m holding the crutch under the arm support and swinging it slightly. He leans forward a little, tries to catch it, and loses his balance. He topples forward slowly. I step forward and steady him, wrapping a hand around his upper arm. “Oops, careful.” He’s warm. 

“I promise I won’t.” The light-hearted atmosphere’s dissipating, replaced by something more serious. Shit. And now I’m trapped, facing Eren head-on, holding onto him. I can hardly let him fall and run away. And he’s not going to give up grilling me. “Why are you avoiding me, Levi?” 

There’s no escaping now. I recognise this moment. This is the crux of the story, the part where I tell him everything. Where I lay my insecurities bare for him, where he accepts them readily, where we kiss passionately under the light of the moon. But this isn’t a conventional romance. It’s real life, which is dirty, hard, and painful. It’s real life, which I’m absolutely fucking terrible at. Eren’s eyes are boring into mine, desperation clear in them. I need to say something. I’m afraid of what will come out, what he’ll think, what he’ll say. 

“I’m scared.” It’s a strangled whisper. At first I think he hasn’t heard me, until he frowns again. The corners of his lips turn down. 

“Scared of what? That I’ll out you or something? Do you really think I’m such a terrible person?”

No. No I don’t. I’m the terrible person. I push everyone away. I’m pushing Erwin away, I’m pushing Eren away. I don’t want to keep doing this. 

“I’m scared.” My mouth’s unable to keep up with my swirling thoughts. My voice box feels swollen, but I need to choke the next words out. I clench Eren’s arm tightly, holding on for dear life. He starts to speak again, but I interrupt him. “I’m scared of how I feel for you.” His brows raise, and his mouth is slightly open. Fuck, his perfect mouth, and his perfect brows, on his perfect face. We’re on dry land, but I’m drowning. “I’m scared of what happens when you realise I’m no good.” 

He’s silent for the longest time. I can’t bear to hold his gaze. I look at anything and everything else - my shoes, his bare foot, the splintering end of his wooden crutch. Granules of sand on the ground drifting by in the breeze. His hand, which was limp at his side, rising upward towards me. Suddenly his fingertips are on my face, tracing my jaw, coming to rest on my neck just below my earlobe. In contrast to his arm, his hand is cool. I didn’t realise until he touched me how burning hot I was. 

“Look at me.” He’s leaning in, cocking his head to the side, trying to get a look at my face.

I shake my head slowly. He laughs that quiet, gentle laugh that I like so much. 

“Look at me, Levi. Or else I’ll drop my crutch and you’ll have no choice but to catch me.” 

This makes me smile, despite my immense emotional turmoil. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Eren.” 

He’s so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead. “I know. I think you’re into it.” 

That I am. I concede. What’s the worst that could happen, apart from being left devastated and heartbroken? I raise my head and meet his eyes. My heart’s beating out of my chest. I feel naked in front of him, my soul laid absolutely bare. Deflecting is the only way to cope. 

“Alright, Captain Ahab. What now?” 

God, I love it when he smiles. Have I made this at all clear? “Moby Dick, huh? I thought you weren’t much of a reader?”

“I’m not. It’s what Anderson calls you behind your back.” 

“Anderson’s a cunt.” He shifts his fingers a little. They pass over the nape of my neck, making me shiver. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

He’s onto me. “I’ve said all I can say.” He leans in at that, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes are so close now that I can’t focus on both at once. I dart between them nervously. The sensation of drowning slowly rises again, bubbling up inside me. A moment ago, it was a heaving swell that threatened to overwhelm me. Now, the waters are a warmer greeny-blue. It’s still uncomfortable. I’m still afraid. But I wonder if I want to let myself sink. 

Eren draws ever closer. His nose is touching mine now. I can hear his inhales, his exhales. We’re breathing the same air. 

“You’ve gotta let me speak too, Levi.” I want to hear him say my name again. I want to hear it a hundred times, in a hundred different ways. I want it to be the only name on his lips. “You may not be entirely good, but you’re entirely good for me.” 

I’m done for. I can’t avoid this any longer. I’m tired of fighting with how I feel. I’m too greedy. I need Eren’s affection. The crutch I’m holding, long-forgotten, drops to the ground. I reach up and thumb his chin, tracing his lips with my index finger. They’re dry and chapped as fuck, and I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. 

“Kiss me.” I sound like I’m pleading. I probably am. 

I sigh when our lips finally meet. My knees just about buckle as I’m carried away by the current. I cling to him desperately as the kiss deepens, his tongue gently working its way into my mouth. He tastes like toothpaste. It’s just a kiss. Just a careful, exploratory kiss where we test each other’s waters. But it’s also everything. Thoughts fail. My hands go numb and the world goes white behind my eyes. I can’t breathe. I grasp a fistful of his hair to stay upright. He leans in, pressing his warm body against mine. Despite his shit balance, he steers the kiss, keeping us steady.

He’s the life raft I hang on to, but he’s also the sea. Heaving and unpredictable. I know it’s not safe, but I can’t keep my toes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1xfEzq59mxZ2oW8WgvkV70?si=KKLjVsYtQ7eGJz-17vOHQw)   
>  [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/justtoclairethingsup/?hl=en)


	12. Ignition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: homophobic and ableist slurs

Holy fucking shit. I can’t believe this. I’m absolutely speechless. Am I asleep? Am I high? 

If it wasn’t for small details tethering me to this mortal coil, I’d be well and truly questioning my sanity. Nerves in my back pinch. My thigh aches from a day spent standing. Both of these serve as crucial reminders of the mundane, of the usual, that pull me back down to earth. Because everything else is just so heavenly. Eren’s hands in my hair, on my neck. He runs his palms up and down my shoulders, my arms, over my back, as we kiss each other. It’s gentle, the way we take each other in. My arms form a cage around him as he leans his back against the concrete wall for support. He’s so wonderful I don’t know how I’ll ever pull away. But I know I have to. The longer we indulge each other, the higher risk we run of getting spotted. I cup his jaw in both my hands, run my thumbs along his cheeks, as I separate us. He stares at my lips with half-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading across his features. 

“Levi…” He draws my name out like a long sigh. Then he chuckles, and it sends a heat spreading through my chest. “Why haven’t we done this sooner?” 

I stroke his face, give his lips one last kiss for good measure, and then step away reluctantly. I pick up his discarded crutch and hand it over, then lean back next to Eren on the wall. A much less compromising position to be found in with another man if someone happens to walk by. 

“I’ve wanted to, for a while.” He beams at me. The last few days have been drab without his smile. I’m glad to see it again, and I need to see it a few more times to make up for the lost time. “I had a sex dream about you.” This tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. Shit, am I overstepping? Eren throws his head back and laughs, and then raises his eyebrows a couple of times suggestively. 

“Oh yeah? I bet I was good.” 

Cocky little brat. I smack his hand with the back of mine before answering. “Yeah, you were pretty hot. Don’t let it go to your head.” 

He grins. “I had a sex dream about you, too.” 

This floors me. “For real?” 

“Yeah. I mean… kinda.” He’s settled his arms back over both crutches now, hands clutching the rests. “I don’t have much reference for being intimate with guys but… We made out and you jerked me off. It was sexy.” 

I feel much less debauched knowing I’m not the only one who has been having these fantasies. The crushing tension that’s crackling in the air between us the last few days has finally cleared. I know the anxious thoughts and feelings will set in again again soon, but for now I’m happy to bask in the afterglow of our kisses. I ghost my knuckles over his bare arm. How isn’t he cold in his singlet? There’s a definite chill in the air, but he seems unaffected. He’s always so warm. 

“It was strange though.” He’s looking up at the sky now, smiling. “We were wearing old-school uniforms, and I was calling you captain.” 

I raise a brow. “Captain? Is that some kind of fetish for you?” 

He laughs heartily. “Maybe.” His eyes meet mine again. Stars reflect in them, making them glisten. Handsome boy. My heart clenches a little bit. “How about it? Come over here and give me another kiss, Captain.” 

God, I’m weak. Surely one more won’t hurt. I have no choice but to oblige him.

* * *

For perhaps the first time out here, I’m well-rested when my alarm goes off. My leg hurts like a son of a bitch, but this aside, I feel good. Content. I still feel Eren’s heat on my lips. We can’t have spent more than twenty minutes outside last night, fighting, making up and then making out, but god if it wasn’t amazing. I replayed it so many times in my head before I went to sleep, rewinding all of the stand-out scenes. His laugh, his kiss, his tongue on mine. It’s my favourite movie. 

Over breakfast, the angst inevitably starts to set in again. I don’t know exactly what came over me when I decided to kiss another soldier behind the latrines. Anyone could have seen. It’s possible that someone did while the two of us were carried away. If someone needed to take a shit at the wrong time, we’re done for. I try to chill out a bit. It’s not likely. We’ll just need to be more careful in the future. 

The future. What’s that even going to look like? My obvious favoritism for Eren was already questionable at best when there wasn’t anything going on between us. Now taking him out for extended periods is going to feel much more risky. It’s not like we can ever get enough time together to fuck. A few stolen kisses is probably the most we’ll be able to indulge in. And what kind of a relationship is that? 

I shake my head. Relationship. How ridiculously presumptuous of me. Since when do I get so attached after one particularly excellent makeout session? The chance of Eren and I getting that serious is about as skinny as a Virginia Slim. I should take what I can get out here and be satisfied with it. Honestly, when I really get to thinking about it, last night alone will satisfy me. Pathetic, aye? I guess I’m a hopeless romantic now. 

I forgo my smoke in favour of heading in to the tent early. I’m fizzing to see Eren. It’s windy today, and sand blows into my eyes as I walk over. I’m still trying to blink it out of my eyes when I get in. Petra’s talking to Peters, and completely obscuring Eren’s bed from view. Rude. She turns around when she hears my boots on the tarp. 

“Are you crying?” 

I frown. “No. Fucking sand in my eyes.” Why is she looking at me so funny? 

“Oh. Did you see Erwin?” 

Blinking is starting to help. “No, I just came from the mess. I thought he did grave shift?” 

“He did, but Zackly turned up this morning and asked to meet with him. Something’s going on. They came in here a few minutes ago looking for you.” 

What does Zackly want with me? He’s one of the higher-ups, the bastards that sit pretty and plan our movements from safe zones. It’s not often they risk their necks to come out here. They like their hot showers and good food far too much. Zackly is particularly notorious for wearing dress shoes with his army uniform at all times, which he’s able to get away with quite easily because he enters gritty combat zones about once a blue moon. He never really shows his face unless he has a reason. I hate him. He comes through our base back home quite often, and he’s a hardcore disciplinarian. I was on the wrong side of him a few times when I was eighteen, and I swear he’s sick in the head. Punishment and humiliation get him off. He gets sent out to pull wayward regiments back in line. 

Holy shit. I try to conceal the fact that I’m about to vomit. Bile rises up in my throat and I swallow it down, begging my foul breakfast to stay in my body. Someone saw Eren and I last night, and reported it. And Zackly’s here to discharge me dishonourably, maybe make an example out of me. I can feel my face go red. This can’t be happening. 

I realise I’m standing there like a muppet in front of Petra. I need to say something. Are these the last words I ever say to her out here? 

“Where are they?” I sound like I’m choking.

She looks concerned now. “In the mess, up behind the stage in the old green room. Levi, what’s this about? Neither of them would say anything to me, but Erwin looked sad.” 

Oh god. “I have no idea.” This doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. “I’ll go find them. Won’t be long.” Or maybe I will. See you never, Petra. See you never, tent. Bye, Eren. 

Back to the mess again. I’m so anxious for this, but I’m trying to suppress it. It’ll be fine. I don’t even like the army. Sure, I want the pension I’ve worked my ass off for, but whatever. I bet I can find something else. Manager at McDonald’s, perhaps. It’d definitely be marginally less stressful. But It’s Eren I’m worried for. Maybe I’ll throw myself under the bus, and say I forced him. Will that get me pulled up in front of military court? I’d rather not end up with a sex offence on my record. I wish I hadn’t forgone my cigarette this morning - I could do with the nicotine in my veins right now. 

I can recognise that I’m spiralling again, picking up anxious thoughts like a snowball rolling down a hill. I try to get things in perspective as I re-enter the mess. Surely it’s unlikely that top dog Zackly would get sent to discipline one soldier for homosexuality? There must be something else going on. But perhaps this is a side note, my stupid fucking brain says. Zackly came here for some extraneous tactical issue, and got excited when he found out there was someone on staff requiring a dressing-down. I guess I won’t know until I’m facing him. 

At least it’s cool in here. The green room is accessible through a slim, winding corridor that runs down the left hand side of the hall. There’s a nice carpet on the floor that’s covered in sandy footprints. One pair of combat boots, one pair of dress shoes. Both pairs march right up to a wooden door. It has text painted on it that I can’t read, and a golden star. I knock twice, sharply. Voices inside stop, and I hear someone shift out of a chair. 

Maybe this is what kids felt like waiting outside the principal’s office. I spent a lot of time there, often with people I’d fought or shilled drugs to. Even the biggest, burliest boys would crack under the pressure, the imminent threat of their parents being contacted so immeasurably terrifying. I’d sit opposite them and watch their breakdowns in confusion. When Kenny came to get me up from school, he’d collect my drug money and give me a high-five, or congratulate me if I had a particularly gnarly bruise. Suspensions were a cause for celebration, a badge of honor I’d receive as proof of my apparent badassery. There’s no badge of honor that comes with being discharged from the army, even from Kenny. 

The door cracks open. It’s Erwin. He smiles at me, one of his dead ones that doesn’t reach his eyes. Not a good sign. He opens it, and I salute at Zackly. He’s leaning back on an elaborate red upholstered chair that must have been here as a prop. The room looks like it’s been ransacked, with broken garment racks piled up in the corners. A large mirror still stands in one corner. 

“Oh, not bad, Ackerman! I remember when I first met you, you couldn’t even salute right!” That fucking booming laugh. I remember, too. When I was going through basic training, I was slow to salute everyone. It just didn’t come naturally. Zackly took it upon himself to train me up one night on the quad, standing in the rain. Two hundred salutes in my underwear. 

“It’s been a while, sir. Thought you might have retired by now.” 

Erwin bristles behind me, but I don’t give a shit. If I’m going out, I’m going out in style. Zackly just laughs again. 

“Smith, you’ve been too easy on him. Ten years in, he’s still a street rat.” Erwin has closed the door, and he’s standing next to me, hands in his pockets. His expression’s neutral, but I know how he feels about Zackly. And how he feels about people talking shit about me. 

“He’s great at his job, sir.” 

“There’s got to be a reason he’s made it this long, I suppose.” Zackly lights himself a cigarette. I stand there, dying. This is it. He’s doing his psychological torture thing. Making my career flash before my eyes until he swiftly extinguishes it. I don’t want to give him the pleasure of drawing it out. 

“Why am I here?” 

My tone is pushing it now. Zackly raises an eyebrow at me, an irritated glare in his eyes. 

“Absolutely no air for pleasantries, huh?” He calls that pleasantries? What a cunt. “You’re going home.” 

Erwin is stock-still beside me. I knew it. It’s a relief to hear, in a bizarre kind of way. I breathe deeply, in and out. I should ask, I think. Get some clarification. Who spotted us? Any particular punishment, or just a discharge? What’s going to happen to Eren? It’s hard to choose which of these questions should have priority. I decide to let Zackly lead - I’m sure he’s got a whole itinerary for tormenting me. 

“Why?” Nice and simple. Zackly takes a big puff. If he’s smoking, can I light up too? Probably best not to ask. 

“We’ve made some tactical decisions.” 

… What? 

“This camp is just a drain on resources. Too many injured, not enough active combat. We’ve got soldiers eating all of our rations without contributing anything to the effort. So we’re splitting it up, moving everyone to the front. They’re medic-heavy, and you…” He looks at my bad leg. “Aren’t fit for active duty. You’re fine trudging about here, but you’d be dead weight anywhere we actually have to move fast. Plus, the medical team back at your base state-side is low, and we’ve had a heap of new recruits. It would help to have an extra hand treating their sexually transmitted infections so we can ship them out faster if we need them.” 

This was really not what I was expecting. Part of me is still waiting for him to surprise me, say “oh yeah, and you’re a faggot.” But this makes more sense. Erwin’s been saying a shake-up is on the cards for a while. I just didn’t expect it to involve me leaving. Shipping off back. 

I’m going home. Honorably. Have I ever done anything honorably in my life?

I’m in shock. I gape at Zackly. “When?” 

He looks bored as he responds. Clearly relaying tactical plans is not half as exciting as haranguing medics. “Don’t know. Less than a week. We’re trying to get our hands on a passenger liner, since they’re less likely to be shot down. We’ll drive in convoy to the airport with all of the injured from your medical tent, and put them on a plane from there. You and I will supervise the operation.” The thought of supervising an actual, practical operation is clearly far beneath him. 

Erwin pipes up. “You’’ll be in charge of the injured, Levi. Keeping them comfortable on the flight.” He smiles at me. That’s it. He’s sad I’m leaving. He’s going to miss me. “McGrath will need particular supervision.” McGrath has been in a coma for five days. It’s not likely she’ll even make it to the airport. 

“You two can discuss the ins and outs later.” Zackly waves at the cloud of smoke gathering above his head. “I’ll be in touch about the airliner. Start preparing to move the cripples out. Dismissed.” 

I walk out first. Erwin follows. I walk slowly so he can catch up. When we’re shoulder to shoulder, I look at him with a grimace. 

“I know I have a foul mouth but he is just next level.”

He’s shaking his head. “I don’t say this sort of stuff often, but if a stray missile hit him, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” 

I love it when Erwin gets nasty. I nudge him with my shoulder in agreement. Our footsteps pad against the carpet. We’re walking in comfortable silence. We’re alone in this narrow hallway. I’m about to be shipped off. I might not get another chance to repair things with him, and I don’t want to leave like this. I need something, though I’m not sure what. Comfort? Reconciliation? Closure? I want to know he’s always still there for me. 

“Erwin.” 

He turns around and smiles at me. My spine feels hot. 

“Do you like me?”

He crosses his arms. “You know I like you, Levi.” 

Ugh. Do I just leave it there? No. Don’t be a fucking coward, Ackerman. “That’s not what I’m asking.” His brow furrows. “Do you have feelings for me? More-than-just-buddies feelings?” I realise I’m using Eren’s words. I wonder how much of his vernacular I’ve adopted over the last weeks. Though with the way he’s been cursing lately, I think he’s picked up more of mine.

Erwin lets out a short breath. He’s usually pretty stoic and doesn’t show much emotion on his face, like me. It’s his eyes that give him away. Currently there’s a look in them that I haven’t seen before. One of resignation. He’s a man accepting his fate. 

“Yes. I’m in love with you.” 

I don’t expect to hear him say it so bluntly. My palms start sweating. My mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Why am I surrounded by such straightforward people? Erwin chuckles. 

“I’ve been wondering if you knew. How long now?” 

How very casual of him. He sounds like he’s discussing the weather. I’m the one who brought it up, and yet I’m struggling to find words as usual. 

“About a week. Petra let it slip.” I’ve really dropped her in it now. “Don’t be mad. She didn’t mean to. She felt horrible.” 

He smiles. “I knew I was running a risk by talking to her about you. She’s a gossip.” 

I can’t disagree with that. So I just stand there. All of my rehearsed words drop out of my ass. I can’t for the life of me remember what I wanted to say. I want Erwin to read my mind like he always does, but I realise I can’t always take advantage of him like that. I can’t be lazy. He deserves so much more. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I try not to sound hurt, but I’m not sure it works. Part of me feels like he’s betrayed our relationship by keeping such a huge secret from me. It might be selfish, but I can’t help it. He knows everything about me, and yet there’s a part of his life that I’ve been shut out of.

Erwin sighs. He leans a shoulder against the concrete wall. The fluorescent lighting above us illuminates wrinkles in the creases of his eyes. It makes him look older and more weary. This sudden vulnerability is heart-wrenching. 

“So many reasons, Levi.” He picks at a fingernail as he speaks. “I was afraid I’d lose your friendship. I was scared you’d oblige me even if it wasn’t what you really wanted, because you’re loyal to a fault. And I started to love you when you were in my hospital bed. It felt unethical to pursue anything while you were under my care. You were in such a terrible place and I didn’t want to take advantage.” 

Shit. I’ve forgotten about that little thing called ethics in my heated pursuit of Eren. But do ethics really matter in the middle of a warzone? The entire concept of our occupation is pretty damned unethical. I try to focus on the conversation at hand. I wonder if Erwin’s right, if I would have obliged him if he had confessed earlier. I wonder if we would be together now. What would that look like? It’s not such a bad picture. 

“I’ve thought about it before.” When I say it out loud, I realise it’s true. We’ve been friends for eleven years. Of course it’s crossed my mind. “I just always assumed I was too fucked up for you.” 

He laughs. “We’ve all got our issues. We wouldn’t be ourselves without them.” 

He’s so nice. I simply don’t know what to say. I settle for a crappy joke to break the tension. 

“So should we bone, then?”

He rolls his eyes, a faint smile on his face. But he replies seriously. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Is he saying he wants to? I visualise it. I’ve seen him naked in the showers so it doesn’t take too much imagination. It just doesn’t feel right. “Not now. Maybe a few years ago.” His eyebrows shoot upwards. “I wish you’d told me before now. Given me some time to get used to it. Things could have been different.” I know this is an unfair thing to say to him, but I just want to be honest. 

“You can’t get used to it now?” 

I look down, push some dust around with my foot. “I don’t know. No. Things have changed.” 

He looks sad. “Is it because of Jaeger?”

I knew he was onto me. The thought makes me smile. He still knows what I’m thinking, always. Proof our bond is strong. “I think so. I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet.” I glance up at him through my hair. “We kissed yesterday.” 

“I’m surprised you hadn’t before.” 

I laugh. “I know. It was my fault. I was dicking around.” 

“He looks at you like he’s seen the light.” 

My chest warms. “So do you.” 

He takes a breath. “I’ve been a jealous bastard. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you so caught up with someone.” 

“That’s okay.” I say. “I’ve been a selfish ass, chasing after Eren right in front of you.”

“Don’t feel guilty.” Erwin reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. He squeezes it tightly. “You deserve to be loved, Levi.” 

Holy shit. Am I going to cry? I close my eyes to try and stop the feeling, and nestle my head on his hand. We’ve never been intimate like this, and it feels nice. Comforting. The awkward air that’s followed us around the last week is starting to dissipate. 

“Are we still best friends?” It sounds so childish, but I have to check. He rubs a thumb over my shoulder. 

“Always.”

I’m hardly a religious man, but thank God for Erwin. We stay together for a few moments, touching, until he pulls away. I miss his warmth. I find myself looking at his mouth. How would he taste? How would it feel? These thoughts slip away like mud in the rain when I picture Eren’s face. He’s all I need. 

Footsteps interrupt us. We leap apart, try to look as het as possible for the passers-by. Just two soldiers, about to head into Zackly’s office, talking tactics. They don’t even spare a sideways glance at us. We’re just two men, hanging out in a hallway, having a manly conversation. The tension is well and truly broken. I reach a fist out. 

“Cool, bro.” 

Erwin finds this endlessly amusing too. I can see it in his face. He bumps mine. 

“Cheers, man.” 

Fuck, I can’t wait to get drunk with him again. We’re hilarious. He steps back off the wall, dusting his uniform off, and we head together down the hallway. Back to the tent, to break the news to our amputees. Just as we breach the doorway, re-enter the sunlight, Erwin says something. It’s short and sweet, but it’s haunting as hell. I can tell it’s a thought that’s going to linger. 

“I don’t want to overstep, Levi. Just watch yourself with Jaeger. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something I don’t like about him.” 

It sits with me, burrows deep into my subconscious. Because even though there’s so much to adore about Eren, I see it. He’s young, blinkered, angry. His instability is equal parts attractive and terrifying. But I’ve done attractive, and I’ve done terrifying. I’m clearly addicted to both. I gently bump Erwin’s arm with my shoulder in response. 

“I can look after myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are things finally letting up for our boys?! 
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1xfEzq59mxZ2oW8WgvkV70?si=KKLjVsYtQ7eGJz-17vOHQw)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/justtoclairethingsup/?hl=en)


	13. Dilemma

The news of our imminent homecoming goes down pretty well amongst our amputees, with one notable exception. Care to hazard a guess? I take one side of the tent, and Erwin takes the other. I deliberately make a beeline for the right. Let Erwin deal with our resident troublemaker on the left. I’m midway through talking to Anderson when there’s an eruption behind me. 

“Get fucked.” 

I hear the murmurs of Erwin’s therapy voice, though I can’t make out his words. They’re drowned out almost instantly by Eren’s assertions. 

“Absolutely no way. I’m not leaving.” 

Erwin’s talking a little louder now, trying to compete. “Jaeger, you don’t have a choice. You’re taking up a valuable bed that could belong to someone else at the front. You have to go. Zackly’s orders.” I glance around the tent and suddenly wish I had popcorn to hand out. Everyone’s intent on watching the show. Anderson’s not even looking at me. Eren rails.

“What makes you think I want to stay here in this bed? I’ve been wanting out for days. I need to get back out to the fight.” Snickers echo around the tent. I throw filthy looks in every direction. This needs to be shut down soon before Eren starts getting heckled. It’ll only get worse from there. I head over to provide some backup, hoping that our newly established closeness might help calm him down. Eren notices me when I start to near Erwin, and looks at me expectantly. Oh god. Maybe our newly established closeness will count against me instead. He looks like he thinks I’m about to back him up. I cross my arms in an attempt to give me a little more authority over him. One of his brows raises questioningly. I’ve got to say something. 

“Eren, you can’t fight.” 

His other brow joins the first so they’re almost lost under his bangs. “Excuse me?” 

Put on your best professional voice. “You’ve only got one leg. What could you possibly do?” Okay, that was way too harsh. Clearly my best professional voice doesn’t count for much. Makes sense, I guess. Eren’s bristling, trying to think of a counterargument. I can almost see steam rising between his ears.

“I don’t need a leg! I could be a driver.”

I try to sound a little less blunt for this retort. “Humvees are manually operated. You need a foot for the accelerator and one for the clutch. You’re coming up a bit short.” Erwin breathes in deeply next to me. His “you’re putting your foot in it, Levi” exhale. I should have left this to him, but I can’t exactly back away now. 

“Well…” Eren’s getting more and more frustrated. “I could be a sniper.”

This back and forth is getting exhausting already. “A sniper’s no good if they can’t change position, kid.”

I’ve reached his breaking point. It was going to happen sooner or later. He yells. “Shut up, Levi! I don’t care! I’m not going.” We stand there in a deadlock, looking into each other’s eyes. I’m trying to send subliminal messages, and so is he. He’s at shouting point, sure, but there’s a plea in his eyes that’s just for me. I’m taken back to the day before his leg was cut off. He looked at me like this then too, and I found it impossible to say no. This time, there’s no room for bargaining. I don’t have power over this decision. I want to apologise, but everyone’s watching. So I just hold my hands up in resignation. 

“Erwin, you deal with him. I’m out for a smoke.” 

The cigarette provides some catharsis for the anxiety I’m experiencing over Eren, but to be honest, I’m actually feeling pretty great. I get to go home. It still hasn’t fully sunk in yet. Today, tomorrow, or the next day could be the last I spend out here. Holy shit. For once, my inner monologue is stunned into silence. I look at the sky, at the thin white clouds travelling by. I’m going to be free. 

I bask in this feeling, let the sun warm my skin. The bones in my leg ache, but it feels good. I’m alive, and I’m going to make it out. And Eren’s coming too. What are the odds of that? I remind myself that whatever this is between us isn’t going to make it past base, but at least I’ll know he’s safe. Even if he doesn’t want to be. The need to go and check on him is suddenly strong. I want to share how I feel with him. It’s not quite right if he’s not smiling. Since when did I get so disgusting? 

Back in the tent, Erwin’s moved on down the line. It looks like everyone’s been informed now. The vibe in the tent is one of elation. Soldiers buzz in their beds, excited to finally be able to leave bed duty. Get onto home soil, kiss their wives and their mothers. The only person not sharing in this excitement is Eren. His arms are folded over his chest, and his hair’s over his eyes. It’s a sad little sight. My arms tingle with an urge to wrap around him, but I settle for sitting down next to his bed instead. He looks up at me through his hair. He’s mad. I sigh. 

“I’m sorry, Eren. We have to follow orders.”

He brushes his hair off his face so his eyes can bore into my soul a little better. “Why didn’t you stick up for me?” 

Ouch. I want to touch him so badly, to placate him. I put my hand down on the bed casually, like I’m bracing myself, and run my little finger against the fabric of his trousers. The muscle in his thigh tenses at the contact, but he doesn’t shift away. 

“Because I can’t. It’s not up to me…” The rage crossing his face is getting more thunderous by the second as he opens his mouth to rebut me. I shut him down. “Just listen, please. I know you want to be here so badly, but you’re dead weight.”

His eyes widen in shock, and hurt flashes through them again. “I can’t believe you’d say that.”

Why am I so crap at this? Oh well, I’m here now. There’s nothing else to do but push on. 

“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m being honest. I get it. You want to fight out here, for your family and for your sister. I fucking get you, so don’t be mad at me. It sucks, but sometimes you need to accept the truth.” He can’t hold my gaze any longer. He looks down at his lap again and breathes out. I keep going while I still can, while he’s silent. “There’s nothing you can do right now. You’re not useful. But that doesn’t mean you’ll never be. Eren, I was in your position once, feeling impotent and pathetic and shit because I was. I’m not anymore. You think I’m useless?” I apply pressure to his leg with my finger, to try and regain eye contact. He looks at me reluctantly, then shakes his head. Just like a little kid. “Damn right. Seven years of medical training had me back up and at ‘em. Give up on this tour. You’re nothing but fodder for Al Qaeda's Ak-47s the way you are currently. Come home, get a prosthetic fitted, and then if this is all still going, come back out. You’ve got the determination to make it happen.” This is a pretty impressive pep-talk by my standards, and I think he’s into it. His face is relaxing. His denial phase is over, and he’s reaching ever closer to acceptance. Just one more push. I lift my hand off the bed and gently ghost my knuckles over his thigh before replacing it onto my lap. To anyone watching, it could pass as an accidental nudge. I think Eren feels it the way I do, as a heat spreading through my spine. It almost makes me shiver.

“I’ll help you.” I say. “I’ll do anything.” In all honesty, helping him find a way to get back out on tour is not a high priority of mine, but if that’s what’s going to make him happy, I’ll bend over backwards to make it happen. He’s looking at me earnestly now, worn out from his angry episode. I’m debating whether to just leave him stewing in this feeling for a while when he speaks. It’s soft, but I hear it loud and clear. 

“I’m sorry. Thank you.” 

Music to my ears. I talked Eren Jaeger down. Can you believe this? Levi Ackerman, using diplomacy? This success has me on an all time high. I’m happy, he’s going to be happy, and we’re all going back to the good old U S of A. I’m grinning before I realise it. Eren cracks me an uncertain smile in return. I don’t want this moment to end, but I’ve got shit to do. 

“Don’t be sorry.” I get up slowly, using his bedside caddy as support. “I’ll come and get you a bit later for a smoke, yeah?” 

His smile grows a little bit wider. “Sure.” 

* * *

We’re traipsing around the encampment’s boundary, taking in the view. Both of us are quiet, Eren uncharacteristically so. His mood seems to have lifted a little since our talk a few hours ago. Some sort of argument with Jones which he emerged the clear victor did wonders for reminding him he’s a boisterous little bastard. But I think we’ve got freedom on our minds now. I’m taking in every inch of the fence so I don’t forget how it feels to be stuck inside. Eren’s looking at birds fluttering by. And I’m struggling not to run my hands over the nape of his neck. 

This is the first time we’ve been alone since we kissed last night. Granted, we’re hardly alone now, since it’s daytime and groups of soldiers performing their duties keep passing us by. It feels strange, not just being a doctor and his patient out for some fresh air. We’re more than that now. Two people who’ve admitted they have feelings for each other spending time together. The air between us isn’t tense, but there’s something there that wasn’t there before. A need, perhaps. I need more from him now. I don’t know if I’m content to park him up and sit next to him. I want to lean my head on him, feel his hands passing over my scalp. I want to fucking smell him. How feral is that? I try to clear these thoughts as we stop by the old well. I lean my back on it, as usual. His knees look so inviting. I trace my finger across the tendons in one as I pass him a cig, and he catches my eye and smiles.

“Copping a feel, Doctor? I could report you for misconduct.” I laugh. I like his jokes. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s consensual.” 

He lights his cigarette, and hands the lighter over. “Without a doubt. I spent the whole night trying to think of private places we could sneak off to around here, and came up pretty blank. Who knew military encampments weren’t well set up for secret romantic trysts?” 

My finger falters as it slides over the safety. Romantic? Did he just say romantic? I wouldn’t know the first thing about romance, but romance with Eren sounds quite nice. Why does everything that comes out of his mouth throw me for a loop? I manage to light mine, and cough like a dork on the first exhale due to my high anxiety levels. Try to cover it up with a sarcastic comment immediately. 

“What a shocker.” He leans his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair, so he can look down at me. There’s that cheeky look again. I melt a little bit. 

“Have you fucked anyone out here, Levi?” 

I snort. “No. Public sex really isn’t my thing.” I’m most definitely never telling him about my shameful masturbation session in bed three feet from Eld. Then I look at him again. “Why? Have you?” Images of him having it off with girls in the bunks flood into my mind. Suddenly I feel a bit jealous. Shit. This is new. He takes a drag before he answers, drawing out my torture. 

“Nah. Hadn’t met anyone hot enough.” He pauses, then rakes his eyes up and down my arms. “Before you.” 

How does one respond to something so shameless? I just gape and then look away, and he chuckles. We smoke in silence as my pulse fucking races. I can still feel him watching, so I try to look as nonchalant as humanly possible as I search my mind for something to say. Unsurprisingly, he gets there first. 

“So you gonna tell me who has feelings for you now we’re a little bit closer?” 

Little shit. This gets me looking him in the eye again. “No, you nosy brat.” He pokes my shoulder. 

“What if I guess?” His bangs are falling down over his face, and he raises a hand to push them away. “I think I might have figured it out, you know.” 

“Have you now?” I say this with strong sardonic intonation, but I feel like he’s probably right. If there’s anything I’ve learnt about Eren besides his volatile temper, it’s that he’s pretty intuitive. He’s been reading me like an open book for a while now. I don’t find it hard to believe that he might have been observing Erwin closely too. I flick my cigarette butt away. 

“Yes. It’s Doctor Smith, yeah?” 

This boy has absolutely no flair for dramatics. Just straight out with it. I invoke the Fifth Amendment, but he wasn’t waiting for a response anyway. He just keeps talking. 

“I should have been onto it straight away, honestly. He watches you like a hawk when you’re with me, and he doesn’t like me one bit. Not that I think I’m the most likeable guy in the world…” He laughs, and I can’t help but smirk at his self-awareness. “But it has been pissing me off. He’s more polite to Jones than he is to me, and I’m leagues less offensive. Took me realising you liked me to get that he was being jealous.”

“You’re a bona fide detective, Eren.” 

He grins widely at this. “Damn right I am. But you guys seem different today. You’re more in sync. That’s why I wondered…” The hem of his shirt suddenly captures his focus, and he picks at loose threads there, unravelling the stitching. “I wondered if something had happened between you, I guess.” 

It’s my turn to laugh, and it comes out in a sharp bark. “That’s why you wanted to know if I’d fucked anyone? You thought Erwin and I had? Between shoving my tongue down your throat last night and meeting Zackly this morning, when would I have found the time?” 

Eren looks a bit sheepish. “I don’t know. It’s obvious there’s been some tension relieved between you, and I’m just out of my teens. Sex is really the only way I’m familiar with.” 

I get this. Even in my ripe old age, orgasms remain my primary mode of problem solving. I shrug. “We definitely haven’t. We just talked. Cleared the air between us and figured some shit out.” 

“And?”

I frown. “And what?” 

Eren tries to drag from his cigarette, but it’s gone out. I lean forward to relight it. It judders slightly as he tries to hold it still in the corner of his lips and talk at the same time. His words come out a bit muffled. “I have a stake in this too.” His cherry ignites and he backs away ever so slightly. Smoke pours out of his nostrils and straight into my face. It’s warm. Suddenly, I can’t look away from him. His eyes are so earnest. “Tell me now if there’s something between you, so I know how much harder I need to try to win you over.” 

This boy needs a wank, I think. I’ve never been chased like this in my life, and definitely not by someone of Eren Jaeger’s caliber. There’s no way it’ll last, but I want to bask in it while I can. So I think about Erwin and I, for him. He’s searching my face for a response, and I don’t want to make him wait. 

It’s undeniable that I love Erwin to bits, and I want him to be happy. There was a moment in the corridor this morning where I felt something strange. At the time, I misread it as a connection, an urge, a possibility. Out here, looking at Eren, I see how mistaken I was. If I hadn’t met him in this time, in this place, I might have settled for Erwin, and I think that would have been fine. But Eren’s presence here is shaking me up in the best and the worst of ways. I know now how amazing it is to feel for someone, and at the same time I have no idea what to do with it. I’m at a loss of how to turn this into something real, and the thought of something real makes my stomach twist in uncertainty. Essentially, I’m a mess, but I’m a mess who knows one thing for certain. Erwin’s a friend. Eren’s an angel. 

I want to touch him, and the best part is I know that I can. I glance around the camp. There’s nobody to be seen. It’s still risky, but I’m emboldened by the blood rushing through my veins which seems irrevocably attracted to Eren. Like a lizard drawn to a lamp, I need his warmth. I run my fingers firmly up his thigh, stroke him with my thumb. He looks at me with wide, inquisitive eyes. My mouth feels dry. Why does it always have to be so hard to speak? What I want to say comes out in a jumble. Damn, that’s embarrassing. Eren understands it, I can tell, but I think he wants to be an asshole. 

“Couldn’t hear ya, Levi. Say that again?” Curse that handsome, shit-eating grin that I just can’t get enough of. I resist the temptation to deck him, and squeeze his thigh a little bit tighter. 

“There’s no competition, Eren. You’ve already won.” 

His face softens a little, and so does my entire body in response. I’m a boneless puddle in front of him as he reaches out and brushes his knuckles against my chest. His damp skin sticks to mine slightly, and I feel gritty sand between us. It’s heavenly. When he speaks again, his voice has a soft and warm timbre to it. 

“I’m so glad you’ll be coming home with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a kudos or a comment <3
> 
> Next chapter will be the first of a few changes of scenery!


	14. Gotta Get Thru This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: graphic medical descriptions, death, war

Large brown birds fly in formation over my head. I watch them head west, over the wires of the encampment and far away into the dim dawn light. This feels like the closing scene of a movie. I can almost hear the ending credits playing. No more blood, no more shrapnel, no more infection. Just names, sponsors and special thanks. My tour’s almost up. 

I’ll be back home within the next seventy-two hours, far away from all of this shit. Not that I really have anywhere to go, that is. My flat in the Bronx with Hange’s long packed up since she moved to Minnesota to work on her PhD. I’d rather not go back with Kenny. All I have is a rusted old car that’s currently parked up at base, with a couple of suitcases and some cash stashed away in it. I could get a hotel, I guess, and try to figure out my next steps. Maybe even sleep in my car for a while, which I’m not entirely foreign to. Either way, I’ll deal with this issue when I come to it. We’re not quite out of the woods yet. 

We’re prepping a few armoured vehicles to carry Zackly, me, and a dozen injured. It’s a big operation. None of us are ready for action. Zackly because he’s useless, me because I limp, the injured because they’re missing a variety of essential limbs. We have an extensive guard, including none other than Eren’s lovely sister Mikasa, who has spent the last hour shooting daggers at me while she’s not preoccupied with her duties. I wonder what Eren has told her. I’ve seen them huddled up quite a bit over the past few days, talking earnestly in quiet voices. Despite my intense curiosity, I’ve been giving them a wide berth in order to let them say their goodbyes. Not that I’ve really had a choice. I’ve been in and out of tactical meetings with Erwin and Zackly in the green room so much I’ve hardly even changed a dressing in the last few days. I’ve only taken Eren for a cigarette twice, once on a humid night, once at the crack of dawn. We haven’t kissed again. It feels too risky. Instead, we communicate in subtleties. The brush of fingers as I pass my lighter to him. A pat on his shoulder that lingers a little too long. A glimmering in his eye as he looks me up and down. It’s not much, but it sustains me better than anything cooked up in the mess hall. I don’t know how I’ll survive without a daily dose of him when we’re back on home soil, but I’m trying not to think about it. Just focus on getting out of this country alive, Ackerman. The impending heartbreak can wait. 

Erwin and I pull McGrath out of the tent first. She hasn’t woken up from her coma, and the likelihood of this happening dwindles with the passing of every hour. We secure her gurney and her ventilator in one of the vehicles. My designated spot for our journey to the airfield is right beside her, since she’s highest up on our triage list. I’m pretty prepared for her to die en route - her vitals aren’t looking too hot. The sick irony of losing someone on the journey home makes my insides twist, but I suppose it’s a fitting end to my tour. It’s been marked by loss and failure. War’s fucking shit. I kick at a rock with the toe of my boot as we step out of the truck and disturb a small cloud of dust. Erwin squeezes my shoulder. 

“You up to doing the final briefing?” 

I look him in the eye. In all honesty, I don’t know if I am. Talking isn't my strong suit at the best of times, and I’m not so sure I’m in the mood to muster up a little bit of morale amongst our patients. But I realise I want to try. I need some semblance of closure to my time out here. So I shrug Erwin’s hand off and head back into the tent, letting the putrid heat envelop me for the last time. 

It’s a hive of activity inside, but it slows instantly. Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. It’s a strange trip seeing all of these soldiers kitted up again. Nobody breathes. Nerves twinge in my spine. For once, I’m the star of the show. I reach into my pocket and grasp my tobacco pouch. It soothes me. I catch Eren’s eye, notice him staring through me with that weird intensity. Somehow, in this moment, it soothes me even more than the thought of nicotine. I take a deep breath. 

“Okay, listen up.” This statement is rather redundant given the way everyone is already listening, but I feel like I needed an introduction. “We’re moving out.” 

The tent starts breathing again. The walls feel alive. I keep going. 

“We’re loading all of you up, four or five to a truck. The airfield’s an hour away. This is our territory, so the likelihood of any skirmishes is low, but we never know. We have a guard, and just in case, you’re all getting your arms back.” I glance over at Rodriguez, at the bandaged stump just above where his elbow used to be, and I just can’t resist. “Except for you, dude. Modern medicine hasn’t come that far.” 

There’s a bark of laughter from Eren’s general direction that brings a smirk to my face. Nobody else bites. Tough crowd. 

“All going well, we’ll arrive at the airfield in one piece.” There’s an obvious joke here too, but I’ll keep this one to myself. “We’ll pack ourselves into a passenger liner and fly out. Unfortunately our budget doesn’t cover in-flight service, so no cocktails or chippies for us on board.” Eren chuckles again. He’s so cute. I’m glad someone appreciates me. “We could run into trouble here. Zackly says planes have been shot down more frequently over the last couple of weeks. So we’ll all need to hold hands and say our prayers, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be back home before we know it. Any questions?” 

Everyone’s looking white as a sheet at the revelation of this information, but I have no idea why they’re surprised. We’re in a warzone. Shit happens. The only person who doesn’t bat an eyelid is Eren. He looks determined as hell. I bet he thinks his staunch willpower is enough to stop missiles. Honestly, I’d believe it. I’d better wrap this up before I’m caught staring at his stupid face for too long. My eyes tear away from him reluctantly. 

“Alright, let’s get going then. Destination New York State base.” 

God, that feels so good to say.

* * *

The drive is hardly a fun road trip. We’re trundling along at a snail’s pace so McGrath’s ventilator stays level, which offends my speed demon sensibilities. There are no windows to look out of in our armoured vehicles, and limited entertainment options. Eren’s not in my truck, so scintillating conversation is out. I’m stuck with Jones, Peters and Zackly, which has to be the worst combination known to man. Jones is clutching his gun close to his chest, Peters is furtively avoiding eye contact with me, and Zackly’s using a pocket knife to clean gunk out from underneath his fingernails. I watch him with a disgusted fascination as I roll up a cigarette, tucking it behind my ear for later. I’m absolutely gasping, and I know Zackly has no qualms about smoke indoors, but I think he would take great umbrage if I were the one to light up first because he’s a power-tripping bastard. 

I toy with the idea of doing it just for some entertainment when a loud bang reverberates through the corrugated walls around us. The truck dips and lurches. Peters screams. Zackly’s pocket knife slides across his palm from the impact, and blood drips down onto his dress shoes. I grip my gun tightly in one hand. My heart races as I listen out for noise outside. Gunshots or voices, signs of commotion. But I hear nothing. I pull the radio from my hip. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

For a few seconds, all that comes back at me is static. But then a voice comes through the other side. 

“Sorry, road’s uneven. Just a pothole.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. I didn’t realise I was holding my breath. I exhale slowly. Peters starts crying. Zackly’s clutching his palm, trying to stop the bleeding. He looks like he might have shit himself, and it gives me such a rush. A sadistic part of me is glad he gets to experience the fear that us soldiers feel on the daily. I start rummaging in my first aid kit to clean up his hand when I hear a gurgling noise on my left side. McGrath is twitching, her eyes opening and closing. Is she having a fit? I find my torchlight and shine it into her eyes. No, she’s responsive. More responsive than she’s been for weeks. It takes me a moment to figure out what’s going on. She’s choking. Her intubation tube shifted when we hit the pothole. I take it out. She gags, foamy saliva pooling at the corners of her mouth, as I hunt for my bronchoscope to put the tube back in. I pull out bandages, syringes, tape, surgical scissors, as her wheezing gets more pronounced, but no bronchoscope. My hand scrapes the bottom of my bag. It’s not there. 

I throw the entire kit on the floor with a frustrated shout. The choking is getting quieter now, but to me it feels deafening. The tragic sounds of someone dying because of a pothole and an incomplete kit. We knew she wouldn’t make it, but it doesn’t make it any less horrible to watch. I look at her. Her eyes are glassy, her blond hair damp and plastered to her forehead. Her fingers twitch and spasm. She looks like the first fish I ever caught. Kenny hit it over the head to put it out of its misery. I wish I could do that for her. I feel like I’ve failed. I grasp one of her hands in mine and squeeze it tightly. I don’t think she can feel it. She’s too far gone. 

I don’t know how long I stand there, clinging onto her. I don’t know precisely when she dies. All I know is that she does. I let go of her hand and use a cloth to wipe her face clean, push the hair from her eyes. I throw the offending intubation tube on the ground. And to complete this cliche scene, I punch a wall of the truck for good measure. I feel skin on my knuckles split, and the pain helps. Just a little. 

We ride in silence the rest of the way. Zackly tapes his hand up. Peters sobs quietly. Jones looks at me with pitying eyes, which is probably one of the most off-putting things I’ve ever seen. I need to get out of here. When we stop, and the doors finally open, I push past the guards and immediately vomit. There’s not much in my stomach, so it’s mostly just liquid that hits the ground. I squat for a moment, my head between my legs, breathing in air. All of the guards have given me a wide berth, except for one. A steady hand grips my shoulder. I look up. It’s Mikasa. 

“Are you alright?” 

She’s curt, as always, but it’s exactly what I need. I wipe my nose on my sleeve. “I’m fine. Let’s get everyone out.” 

Mikasa takes off her helmet and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Come and have a drink of water first.” She knows I’m about to protest, and she cuts me off. “You look like shit right now.” 

I laugh, despite myself. She sounds so much like me. I let her help me up, and we stumble over to one of the trucks, leaning our backs against it. The wind is blowing strongly, easing the stickiness of my forehead and the nape of my neck. I take in our surroundings for the first time. Another barbed wire fence, but this time there’s no medical tent or mess hall inside its borders. Instead we’re in a large, plain field. All of the grass is brown and crispy-looking. Our vehicles are parked up at the foot of a passenger liner. Delta Airways. The first familiar logo I’ve seen in months. Soldiers are loading luggage, big brown boxes with golden trim. I blink, trying to get a better look. 

“Coffins.” Mikasa hands me her flask. “From the front lines.” 

My stomach lurches again. I take a sip of water to try and force the bile back down. It’s wonderfully cool. “Reckon they’ve got a spare?” 

She folds her arms and looks at me. “That woman died, did she?” 

I nod. “I was missing something from my kit. It’s not uncommon out here. We’ve got fuck all.” I drain the last drops from her flask into my mouth. My esophagus has stopped clenching now. 

“I’m sorry.” She says. “I’m not very good at comforting people.” 

I smirk at her. “It’s okay. Neither am I.” Is that the ghost of a smile I see on her face? It’s probably the first time I’ve seen her smile at anyone except for Eren. Never thought I’d be the type to win over the inlaws. “You and your brother aren’t much alike, huh?” 

Mikasa snorts. “No, we’re not. He’s far better than I am.” She reaches out for the flask, and I hand it to her. “You don’t deserve him.” 

So he’s told her about me. I wonder what he’s said. My chest aches because I know what she says is true. The nauseous feeling is rising up again, and I can feel a tension headache building up behind my eyes. I pick at a scab that’s starting to form on my knuckle. “No, I don’t deserve him.” 

She pats my shoulder before tugging her helmet back on, securing the strap underneath her chin. “Don’t blame yourself. He’s always had bad taste.” 

Is she… joking around with me? I catch her eye again, and she grins. Her smile makes her look younger. I’m struck by how pretty she is for a moment. How have I been so intimidated by her all this time? 

I’m reminded of why when she elbows my arm, hard. “But if you ever hurt him, you’re dead, shorty.” And she’s walking away, gun slung over one shoulder. I suppress a shudder. Fucking scary.

The rest of the operation goes over easy. We get everyone into the plane. I’ve never seen a passenger liner so empty in my life, and decide to make use of the space by giving everyone their own aisle. After weeks of being trapped together in the tent, I think everyone is relieved to have a few air-conditioned square feet of space to themselves. I do rudimentary rounds and check dressings before lift-off. The atmosphere is solemn. Even Eren is quiet, staring out the window as I rewrap his leg. I know he’s thinking about the coffins. Everybody is. It’s a funny feeling, being on a plane full of dead people. I see McGrath’s eyes every time I blink, in different faces I don’t recognise. Unseeing fish eyes. I still feel sick, so I nibble on some stale crackers while I wait for all of the bodies to be loaded on board, watching from the plane’s doorway. Zackly is sitting in the front row, face turned away from his window. He looks uneasy. As he should. 

I sit down near the back of the plane for takeoff. We’re close to the border here. It’s only around two hours until we leave Afghanistan’s airspace. I don’t think any of us will really relax until then. Dips in clouds look like missiles in my mind’s eye, coming to strike us down. At least it’d be a quick death, I think. I picture coffins raining down from the sky. God, I’m feeling morbid. I shut my eyes and try picturing a safe space. A dive bar. A whiskey in my hand. Bartenders that don’t care if I smoke. A jukebox in the corner that doesn’t have any Beatles songs. Maybe a good-looking, funny patron who flirts with me all night. With shining green eyes. I picture him walking in, shooting me a confident smile, and walking right up to me.

“Is this seat taken?”

It takes me a moment to register that this isn’t part of my fantasy. I crack an eye open. Eren’s standing over me, leaning on a crutch. I forgot to factor that into my daydream. I feel a bit guilty for imagining him more able-bodied than he currently is. 

“Go ahead. Sit down.” 

He smiles, then shuffles awkwardly into the aisle. I grip his elbow to guide him into the seat, and he nods at me in thanks when I’ve got him seated. We sit in silence for a few minutes. I tip my head back, breathing in the sterile air. It’s drying out my throat a little. 

“I’m sorry about McGrath.” Ugh, those eyes pop into my head again. I look at Eren’s instead, which are very much alive. “Jones said you took it really hard. He was worried about you.” 

I don’t really want to talk about feelings right now. I want to let them fester for a while. “Shit happens. I’ll get over it.” 

I realise I’ve been a little too short when Eren nods. “Sorry. I didn’t even think that you might want to be alone. Should I go?” 

Definitely not. “No. Stay if you want.” Please stay. I feel calmer now that you’re next to me. No way can I say that. But my minimal use of the English language suffices, for now. He gives me a nervous grin. 

“Okay, I will.” He jiggles his amputated leg. “I don’t really want to be alone. I miss Mikasa already.” He looks so much like a lost child right now. I want to hug him, but I settle for putting my hand on his for a moment. He glances down at it with a smile, traces the scraped knuckles. 

“Peters told me you punched the side of your truck. He swears you dented the armoury.” 

“Who does Peters think I am, the Hulk? That armoury is bulletproof.” 

Eren cackles. “He’s really mythologized you. I used to think he was scared of you, but now I’m not so sure. I think he might have a crush on you too.” 

I raise a brow at him. “I’m glad you think so highly of me, but not everyone is as deranged as you.” 

He laughs louder this time. The crushing weight I’ve been feeling in the pit of my stomach starts to lift. Breathing comes more naturally. This is amazing. I squeeze his hand tighter, and look out the window again. Everything’s so blue. I think about the birds I saw this morning. I wonder how far they flew, if they’re still flying. How many people have looked up at them and wished they could do the same. Fly according to their own compasses, rather than according to arbitrary man made concepts like borders. Be free from circumstances of birth, free from the myriad of strings that self-serving politicians pull. It could all be so simple. As freeing and easy as touching Eren feels. For a moment, I imagine it’s just the two of us, floating in space and time. I don’t want to touch down, let reality sink in. I want to keep escaping. But I know it’s not possible. We have to hit the ground at some point. 

Thankfully, we don’t hit the ground in Afghanistan. When the pilot announces we’ve flown over the border, people cry and cheer and clap. Eren smiles and says something to me. I can’t hear him. I feel like I’m frozen. I watch him like he’s moving in slow motion as he leans in to me. Warm breath fans my face. Dry lips press against mine. I lift an arm with all the earthly strength that I can muster and tangle my fingers in the front of his shirt. 

My war’s over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me so long to update, this chapter has given me so much grief! I've rewritten it like a million times. hopefully it reads okay, please give me a comment if you enjoyed it and let me know what you think! future chapters should be coming in a wee bit faster now that we're getting to part 2
> 
> check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1xfEzq59mxZ2oW8WgvkV70?si=KKLjVsYtQ7eGJz-17vOHQw) if you like x


	15. I Wanna Know

Jetlag is the most fucked up thing. 

I feel like it’s been daytime forever. I’m disoriented as all hell. The last day has gone by like a dream. I think I’m still dreaming now. White walls surround me, bright fluorescent lights flickering over my head. People rush past, a mix of familiar and new faces. Some shake my hand, some pat my back. It’s overwhelming. All of their words are meaningless sounds in the echo chamber that is my empty head. All I want is peace and quiet, to be left alone, so I just smile and nod. This seems to do the trick, dissipate the swarms of people around me. I try to orient myself. I look at my hands, at the scabs on my knuckle. Scabs from punching the inside of an armoured truck in Afghanistan. Proof that I was there. My boots are black steel caps, standard issue, but I’m not wearing a uniform. A black button-up shirt and dark wash jeans. I smell fresh. I haven’t smelled fresh in months. My hand leaps to my chest. I can’t feel my tags. What have I done with them again? I pat my pockets, find them stashed in one on the right side of my ass. That’s right. I took them off, because I don’t need them anymore. I took them off, because I’m 

Home. 

I’m home. 

Standing in the middle of the medical wing of my army base. In New York, New York, baby. The sterile scent enveloping me is incredible. I breathe it in, the smell of soap and chemicals and hospital and hygiene. It’s literally almost orgasmic. 

We touched down an hour ago. The higher-ups tried to dismiss me almost immediately, but I couldn’t leave. It felt wrong not to finish my mission. I helped Anderson, Jones, Rodriguez off the plane, and got them into beds to begin the triage process. It’s all a formality at this point. None of these people require urgent medical treatment anymore - their condition just needs to be noted for insurance’s sake. Who lost what limb at what time, so they can start claiming assistance. I got halfway through filling out Anderson’s form when I realised I didn’t have a form at all. I was pencilling his details straight onto my clipboard. I was swiftly excused, so I made my way to my locker and pulled out a fresh change of clothes. A cold shower in the staff barracks later, I’m back in the medical wing, looking for something. The war is old news now that I’ve washed it all off. I’m a man on a new mission. But what is it, exactly? 

Click, click, click. The sound of crutches on the concrete floor. Each click reverberates within me. I look around for the source of the noise, but I’m distracted by the movement still carrying on on every side of me. Until I spot him. His face slowly comes into focus. If I wasn’t transfixed before, I definitely am now. I can’t move an inch. All I can do is look at him as his cheeky grin comes ever closer. 

It’s Eren Jaeger. 

It suddenly strikes me that I’ve never seen him out of uniform before. He’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, in a similar wash to mine. His hair’s wet, and his face is cleanly shaven. The rickety, wooden crutches he relied on in Afghanistan have been replaced by white plastic ones that are actually the right height for him. He’s standing straighter as a result, reminding me how absolutely fucking short I am. He stops half a metre shy of me, his grin changing into a warm smile as he looks me up and down. I feel a bit self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze, but I can’t quite bring myself to take my eyes off him.

We probably look weird. One of us needs to say something, cut through the clear romantic undertones of this moment before someone around us picks up on it. I raise a hand and slap his upper arm, slightly harder than I want to. 

“Alright, Jaeger?” He looks at the spot of contact in surprise, and back at me. Then I watch it dawn on him that it’s hardly acceptable to make eyes at another man in a military hospital. I put my hand back into the pocket of my jeans. 

“I’m alright, Doctor Ackerman.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice that makes me smirk. “I’ve just been discharged. I’m trying to figure out how I’ll get home.” 

I could give you a lift. I push this thought down as quickly as it comes up, because I don’t know how he’ll respond. I wrack my brains for any other way to extend this conversation with him. My finger brushing over the lighter in my pocket provides one. 

“One last smoke before you head off?” Very casual and chill. He positively beams. 

“As long as it’s not that standard issue shit.” 

Man after my own heart. “Never again.”

It’s a beautiful day. One of those late spring mornings where it’s just crisp enough to be pleasantly warm without being humid. There are barely any clouds in the sky. We head out through the medical centre’s back door, towards my smoke spot by the concrete box that houses the compound’s generators. Cool air pushes out towards us through small metal grates at knee height. I lean back against the wall and survey the quad. Soldiers march across the tarmac in succession, their sandy beige uniforms standing out against the slate gray of all the buildings surrounding us. I’m aching to see some green. A tree, some grass. Anything. I can’t wait to get out of this place. 

My cigarette ritual is different on home soil. I don’t roll here - I’m a sucker for a tailie. I pull out the carton and hand one to Eren. He smiles as I light it for him. Then I get one out for myself. 

The end lights so evenly. I marvel at it, watching the embers glimmer as I take a drag in. Headrush hits me almost instantly. My toes and fingers tingle. My eyes close. This is a religious experience. My head rests against the wall behind me as I hold smoke in my lungs for as long as possible. When I finally let it out, a sigh comes with it, deep, heady and satisfied. Holy shit. I look at Eren. 

“How have I been surviving?” 

He’s smirking. “I’ve never seen someone have such a visceral reaction to tobacco before. You look like you just came.” 

I punch him. “Shut the fuck up, you ass.” He just laughs. 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He puffs out a cloud of smoke. “It was quite hot, actually. I wouldn’t mind seeing you make that face again.” 

My stomach lurches as my brain starts to conjure up scenarios in which Eren might see me make that face again, and I take another hefty drag to try and settle it. Questions rush through my head, but I’m not quick enough to catch onto any strands. Or brave enough to start attempting to verbalise them. I opt for a swift subject change instead. 

“How are you planning on getting home?” 

Eren’s smirk gets even wider. The little shit. He likes making me squirm far too much. Thankfully, he answers me normally, despite his obvious amusement. “I was going to phone a friend and ask him to pick me up. He studies law at NYU, so his schedule’s pretty flexible. I’m just…” He shifts a little on his foot, awkward all of a sudden. “He doesn’t know I’ve lost a leg. I don’t really feel like surprising him with it today.”

I hum. I get it. Dealing with your loved ones seeing you as an invalid is tough. The atmosphere between us threatens to get heavy, but Eren brushes it off. “What about you, Levi? You were in the Bronx, yeah? Are you heading back there?” 

I shake my head slowly. “Nah, I moved out before I went on tour. My stuff’s in my car. I think I’ll get a hotel somewhere central. Where are you going?” There’s a distinct feeling that we’re dancing around something here, speaking in allusions that my tired brain is finding far too difficult to dissect. Eren’s worrying at his lip with his teeth, like he’s mulling something over. 

“Back to my place in Brooklyn. My parent’s place.” 

“Cool. Cool.” This is a strictly uncool thing to say. I’m floundering. I want to know when I can see him again. I don’t know where we stand, now we’re back on home soil. I’m afraid to come off as pushy, but I’m too used to spending time with him every day. I don’t want this moment to be goodbye. I decide to start with that. Eren, can I see you soon? Just as the words start to tumble out of my mouth, Eren starts talking too. We both stop and gape at each other. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” He scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding my eye. 

I toss my cigarette butt. “No, it was nothing. You go first.” The little confidence I had just started to build up drops out my ass. Shit, this is uncomfortable. Eren sighs, grimaces, and then looks me dead-on. That determined expression is back, though his body language twists it into something a bit more sheepish. 

“Okay, look.” His hands fidget with the handhold of his crutch. “I don’t want to seem forward or anything. If you say no, we can just pretend this never happened.” The corner of his mouth twists upward slightly, into a small smile. “But there’s a spare room at my parent’s place. Two, if you count Mikasa’s. And you have a car. And I need a lift.” 

I stare at him, dumbstruck. My jaw hangs loose. He looks at me with a raised brow, and then shakes his head. 

“Alright, forget it. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

Shit. Use your words, you dickhead. “No, you didn’t. You haven’t asked me anything yet.” That came out wrong, but Eren doesn’t seem to mind. He’s an excellent garbage translator. His eyes light up. 

“Okay. Levi…” He reaches for the cuff of my sleeve, and grasps it between two fingertips. “If you drive me home, I can let you stay with me for a few days? To return the favour?” His bangs are hanging down over his brows, and it gives him a coy, boyish look. But that fiery determination is still blazing. He doubles down. “I’d like that. If you wanted to.” This sentence rises off him like steam. It’s making me melt. I’m tempted to pinch myself because there’s absolutely no way I’m awake right now, but I’d rather let the dream carry me away. 

“That sounds good.” It’s stilted, but at least it’s out in the open now. And God does it feel good. Eren’s smiling again, an insolent look playing across his tanned features. 

“Cool. Cool.” 

Little shit. I resist the urge to kick his crutches out from underneath him.

* * *

Eren and I gather our things from our lockers and I sign off with administration. I find out what day it is for the first time in what feels like months. Wednesday the eleventh of May. I get the rest of the week off before I’m expected back on Monday. The plan is to spend most of this time catching up on the drinking I missed so sorely when I was out on tour. I espouse the wonders of New York’s dive bars to Eren as we get into my rust bucket of a car, forgetting that the poor little bastard can’t even legally have a drink yet. He tells me his best tricks for sneaking into clubs as we drive up to the gates. We’re both registered speechless as they open up, as I pull out onto the highway. The scenery that envelops us is heart-wrenchingly familiar. Black tarmac, yellow lines. Green grass on both sides of us. Glare from the sun cuts across my windscreen, and I pull my sunglasses on to protect my eyes. Eren squints through it on my right side. We drive in stunned silence, taking it all in. I wind down the windows and smoke another cigarette. It’s peaceful. 

Right up until Eren starts batting my arm, hard. “Levi, look.” He’s pointing at a tall sign adorned with familiar golden arches. McDonald’s, coming up in 200 metres. I grin. 

“Fuck yes.” 

I skid into the lot so hard I swear I smell burning rubber coming in through the open window. Eren cheers. We pull up to the drive through and place an order large enough for a small army. Burgers, fries, shakes. When we collect it, the attendant eyes us with suspicion as Eren counts the items with wide, hungry eyes, like a junkie weighing his next fix. The car starts to reek of chips and grease, and it’s making both of us salivate. If I don’t get a cheeseburger in my mouth within the next thirty seconds I’m probably going to scream. I stop in the parking lot, and my brakes give a warning creak. I look at Eren, and he looks at me. French fries are hanging out of his mouth. 

“Give me a burger right now.” 

He nods, gravely serious, and hands me over a small, warm parcel. I unwrap it at the speed of light, getting shredded lettuce all over my lap. The smell of cheap beef assaults my nostrils. I take a bite, then another, then another. It’s gone in an instant. Eren’s watching. If he still wants to have sex with me after witnessing this, it’ll be a miracle. I wipe mayonnaise off my face with the back of my hand, panting a little from inhaling my food, and give him my review. 

“Just as foul as I remember.” 

Eren bursts out laughing. He doubles over and clutches at his ribs, a wrapped burger still gripped tight in one of his hands. It’s so infectious I start smiling too. Mirth bubbles up inside me as the ridiculousness of our current situation suddenly becomes clear. We’re tearing into a bag of fast food like a couple of high schoolers after their first few hits on a bong. We look at each other and cackle, absolutely high off the aroma of salt and pickle juice and freedom. It’s a wonderfully cathartic moment that I feel so privileged to be able to share with someone else. Tears well up in the creases of Eren’s eyes, and he clutches the dashboard in an attempt to steady himself. I hold onto the steering wheel with my greasy, mayo-covered hands. We’re hysterical. God, it feels so good to laugh like this. 

“Haaah…” Eren wipes his face and tries to gulp in some air. Then another fit hits him, and he’s off again. I can’t look at him anymore or I’m going to die. I jump out of the car for a second and shake crumbs and lettuce onto the concrete, taking a few deep breaths. My ribs hurt. When I’ve calmed down sufficiently, I let myself sit back down in the driver’s seat. Eren’s quiet now, thank god. I decide it’s safe to glance over at him. 

He’s flushed, and his hair’s all over the show, and he's looking at me like I'm the only other person in the world. Laughter’s been replaced by such a fond smile. I bask in it for a moment. He takes a breath, and licks salt off his lips. 

“Levi, what is this?” 

This? The full bag of fast food in his lap? 

“It’s a prime symbol of American capitalism.”

He rolls his eyes, but the fond look doesn’t dissipate. My heart swells. He finds my dumb jokes endearing. I’m so lucky. “Not the food, you idiot. I mean this. Us. What are we?”

My breath catches in my throat. Suddenly there’s no air in the car. 

“Um…” I wish I could be as upfront as he is. I know exactly what I want us to be, so why am I getting tongue-tied? I try to breathe evenly, attempting to summon a tenth of the courage Eren has. “I’ve been thinking about that too.” He smiles so widely at this, and I falter again. “I mean… We could be a couple.” Is that too presumptuous? “If you want.” I want to kick myself for sounding like such a loser. 

The way he’s looking at my face is so intense I almost shut my eyes. He takes in all of my features - my brow bone, the bridge of my nose, my lips, the curve of my jaw. It makes me feel seen, in a way I’m not sure I like. It’s so new. I think Eren senses my discomfort, because he reaches out and puts a gentle hand on my cheek. The touch grounds me, and I lean into him. 

“Hmmm. You as my boyfriend, huh?” He’s drawing closer. I feel the rumble of his voice in my chest. My heart starts fucking galloping. And then he smirks. “I guess I’ll think about it.” 

I put a hand squarely in the centre of his chest, and push him away. “Fuck you.” 

He’s laughing again, a teasing laugh that soothes my inner turmoil. I’m torn between wanting to be pissed off at him and feeling relieved that the intensity between us has dissolved a little. I look straight ahead and cross my arms like a petulant child. “I’m only joking! Come on, Levi.” He pokes me. I refuse to look his way. “Come on, look at me.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

He pokes me again. “Levi Ackerman, I’m so sorry I’m a massive pain in the ass. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Massive pain in the ass is right. “No. The offer’s expired.” 

Eren chuckles. He runs a hand over my bicep. “Please?” I feel his breath on the side of my face. It’s getting hard not to look at him. “Don’t make me beg.” 

I can’t resist stealing a glance. He’s so gorgeous. The urge to crack a smile is strong, but I’m not ready to stop punishing him yet. I face straight ahead again. “I think I’d quite like to see you beg.” 

“Okay.” He presses the tip of his nose to my cheek and breathes in. When he speaks again, it’s almost a whisper. Goosebumps break out across my skin. “Doctor Ackerman, I’m crazy for you.” I scoff, trying not to give away how warm this makes me feel. “I mean it.” His lips graze against me as he speaks. “I thought I was straight until I saw the way you fill out a standard issue t-shirt.” I’m definitely losing this game. My lips are betraying me, the corners of my mouth turning up ever so slightly as he traces the muscles of my upper arm. “I know I’m only three quarters of a man, but I have a lot to offer.” 

I turn my head slightly, and close my eyes. My nose brushes against his. “Yeah? Such as?” 

I feel rather than see his smile. “I can give you half my french fries.” 

“I paid for those.” 

“Shit, you’re right.” His lips are inches away from mine. I ache to close the gap between us, but I don’t want this banter to end. “How about I ravish you in the back seat?” 

Now that’s a tempting offer. “Right here in the McDonalds carpark? Very classy, Eren.” 

“I’m a classy guy.” His hand brushes over the stubble of my undercut, and it makes me shudder. I let out an involuntary sigh, and Eren draws a sharp breath in response. “Oh god Levi, I’m so serious. I like you so much. I’ve never felt like this before.” He kisses the corner of my mouth so gently. “Please please please be mine.” 

Despite my self-loathing tendencies, a welcome thought creeps into my mind. It spreads through my veins like electricity. If someone like Eren likes someone like me, surely I can’t be all bad. I wonder if, perhaps, I’ve actually done something in life to deserve him. I smile in earnest, and finally concede.

“Okay.” I lean forward, and catch his bottom lip between mine. His hand runs through my hair. We kiss slowly, savouring this moment, and when we pull away, he rests his forehead on mine. We breathe each other’s air. Eren traces my lips with a calloused thumb, the same way I did to him when we first kissed outside the tent in Afghanistan. But that was then, and this is now. We’ve made it home safely. Out of all the things to bring back from a warzone, who would have thought a boyfriend would be one of them? Thinking about relationships used to make me cringe. The idea of being so intimate with another person was virtually unimaginable until Eren came into my life. It’s still hard, and I’m still absolute shit at expressing myself beyond heavy sarcasm and copious swearing, but Eren makes me want to try. I look into his eyes. He’s laid it all out for me. It’s only fair I tell him how I feel. I try and string a coherent sentence together that doesn’t sound like complete shite. 

“I’m so glad I met you.” 

He pulls back slightly in surprise, beaming. “Really?” I really should try this more often, I think. This is so cheesy it almost threatens to bring my burger back up, but seeing him smile makes my fucking world go round. 

“Really.” I card my fingers through his hair, pulling his bangs back into place. “Now, as tempted as I am to get hot and heavy with you in the back seat right now, I do not want to fuck in a car that stinks of Big Mac sauce.” He snorts. “What do you say to heading home?” 

Home. I’m being presumptuous again, but Eren doesn’t seem to mind. He kisses me one last time before we disentangle. The back of my head feels cold without his touch. We roll down the windows to clear out some of the gnarly smell before we head out onto the freeway, NYC-bound. We fiddle around with the radio for a while, but the static reminds me too much of incoming injury, so we settle for turning it off and talk to each other instead. The amalgamation of familiar and unfamiliar elements is rather surreal. I know this drive like the back of my hand. I know this crappy car. I know my civilian clothes, my rucksack in the trunk, my pack of Marlboros sitting on the dash. And I know Eren, but not like this. He’s wearing a baggy black hoodie I’ve never seen him in before, but the chain around his neck with the key on it peeks out at me occasionally when he moves his head. The left leg of his jeans hangs lamely down without a leg to fill it out, unlike his uniform pants that I cut the bottom off of for easy access to his wound. The words coming out of his mouth are the same blend of shit-talking and pop culture references that it was in Afghanistan, but here alone in this enclosed space together, the words are just for me. They’re all mine. And the hand resting on my thigh as I drive is a reminder that I’m all his. I don’t have any reference for what I’m feeling right now, but I’m tempted to say that it’s almost a domestic sense of comfort. Is it possible to feel at home when you don’t have one? I look over at Eren. Perhaps I’m not as homeless as I thought after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is officially the beginning of part two <3
> 
> fun fact: the McDonalds scene was actually the very first one I wrote when coming up with this story, and it's been the basis for Levi and Eren's characterization throughout this joint :)


	16. Gin and Juice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexual content, recreational alcohol use 
> 
> Just in case anyone was wondering or needing a little refresher of the events thus far, here's a basic timeline of this story. 
> 
> 1974: Levi is born  
> 1983: Eren is born  
> 1992: Levi joins the army mid-year, and has his accident in November  
> 1993: Levi begins his medic training  
> 2001: September the 11th happens. Eren's mom dies. Eren's dad goes missing November of this year.  
> 2003: Levi is deployed in January. Eren is deployed in March. When they meet because of Eren's injury, it's April.

If there’s one thing I don’t miss about New York, it’s the fucking traffic. By the time we’ve finally hit Brooklyn, it’s around six o’clock. The sun’s not quite setting, but it’s shifted much lower in the sky, casting a gentle orange light on the suburban houses surrounding us. Eren directs me this way and that, pointing out a few choice landmarks on the way. His primary school. The field where he had soccer practice. Each of these reminds me that we actually know very little about each other. Looking at him starts to feel weird, unfamiliar. I can feel uncertainty trickling down behind my eyelids, and I shake my head to clear it. No self-sabotage right now, Levi. Save that for a day when you’re not running off of about three hours’ sleep. I focus on little things to try and ground me - the vibrating of the clutch beneath my foot, the cool air blowing out at my face from the AC. Eren’s hand, stroking languidly down my arm in a repetitive motion. It’s soothing. At least until he grips me, hard. 

“It’s this street. The very end of the first block.” 

My brakes threaten to seize up, but we manage to glide into a park. I pull Eren’s wheelchair out from the back seat. He was making do with crutches okay at base, but the level of exhaustion we’re both currently at is not conducive to good balance. A flash of relief crosses his face when I pull it around to the passenger side door. Getting him out is a bit of a struggle, since my car’s so low to the ground it’s basically scraping the sidewalk, but we manage it alright. It feels good to be out in fresh air again after sitting in the car for so long. I flex my shoulders to reduce the building tension on my spine. Eren looks around with a soft smile. 

“Perfect park, dude. It’s right there.” 

The house looks exactly like I thought it would. Not quite a white picket fence, but it’s pretty close. It’s huge, two stories, with a cute little porch out front. Baskets hang down from the awning, swinging gently in the breeze. Eren’s entire life flashes before my eyes. I see him in elementary, in high school, trudging home holding the straps of his backpack. I see him stumbling home drunk and getting told off for staying out too late. It all looks so ordinary in my mind. A back story like this doesn’t suit someone larger than life like him. I look at his face. He’s grinning as he opens the gate. Adorable. 

“Come on, then.” 

This wheelchair is leagues easier to push than the piece of junk I used to cart Eren around in on tour. We trundle up the garden path, and I pull him clumsily up the porch steps, pulling a leg muscle in the process. When are people going to stop building such inaccessible homes? I guess we’ll be keeping Eren’s outings to a minimum until he gets his prosthetic fitted. He pulls his dog tags off from around his neck as we reach the door, and I see the glint of his silver key on the chain. It slides cleanly into the lock. Musty air hits us. The hallway is dim, with small patches of light from open doorways illuminating the dark-stained wooden floor. Eren points me through the first of these into a living room. He’s quiet for once, taking everything in. I wonder if he needs space, but I’m loath to break the silence and ask him, so I make an executive decision. 

I settle him on the couch, and get our bags out of the car. They’re worth two trip-loads including a box of paperwork from base, but I’m determined to take everything in one. I hold bag straps in the crooks of my elbows and balance the paperwork on my lower arms. It’s fucking heavy. The gate’s blown closed, so I struggle to open it again. Success. I’m seconds away from the door when another gust of wind hits, blowing the contents of the box all over the yard. For fuck’s sake. I take a few deep breaths, and then proceed to gather everything up. Five to seven minutes later, I’m finally back in the house. I dump the cursed stuff by the doorway and head back into the lounge. 

Eren’s curled up around a pillow, asleep. I’m hardly surprised - I’m pretty shattered too. Lying down on the couch next to him is tempting, but my stomach’s growling. But now I feel awkward, awake and alone in a strange house. Surely the kid won’t mind if I hunt through his kitchen. I head back into the hallway, which is lined with family photos. The resemblance between Eren and his mom is so startling I do a double take. His dad looks way more like a doctor than I do, with his wire-rimmed glasses and a friendly smile. Mikasa turns up as Eren grows, and she’s scowling in every picture to balance out his broad smile. I pass a fancy-looking dining room, a bathroom and a bedroom that looks like a mausoleum. Dead flowers line the walls, and there’s a funeral pamphlet lying on the bed. I’m tempted to take a closer look, but the vibe is so morbid that I pull back, continuing my search for the kitchen instead. I find it at the back of the house. Large windows that look out on a backyard let in afternoon sunlight. Pear trees move gently in the breeze outside. It’s peaceful. 

It feels like I’m in a dream. I wonder how long it will take me to adjust. The constant state of heightened anxiety that camping out in a warzone brought on has nowhere near dissipated, and I think it’s going to follow me for a long time still. I don’t feel safe, especially now that Eren’s asleep. The silence in the kitchen feels deafening. I pick out small sounds. The clock on the wall that ticks just like the one in the tent in Afghanistan. A dull, mechanical hum coming from the fridge that could easily be the noise of armored trucks in the distance. It’s eerie in a way suburban kitchens should never be. Shit. I try to shake myself out of it, and head for the fridge. In retrospect, I think, I shouldn’t have expected much from a house that’s been empty for months. Rotting vegetables fill the drawers, and there are a few containers of indistinguishable leftovers on the shelves. After months of mystery stew, I feel like nothing could phase me, but I decide I deserve a little better on my first day back. So I head back to the lounge, grab Eren’s keys from the coffee table by his side. He’s still soundly asleep. I want to kiss his face, but I don’t want to disturb him. Instead, I turn on my heel and leave. 

Outside is cool, and the car is even cooler. I literally have no idea where I am, but years of roaming streets scoping out potential marks as a kid has given me a fantastic sense of direction. A corner store caught my eye as Eren was directing me here, so I double back for it. It’s in a cute little village with a cafe, a restaurant, and a liquor store. Fuck yes. Liquor takes priority over food. I head in and snatch up a few bottles of spirits before I realise I have no idea what Eren likes to drink. He likes to drink a lot, from the sound of stories he’s told me about parties in his teen years, but specifics like this never came up before. I guess neither of us expected to be home so soon. I grab a whole assortment. He’s young, so maybe shitty beers. But he’s from a rich family - mid-shelf red wine? I end up with eleven items of varying price range and quality, and the attendant eyes my selection with suspicion. 

“Frat party or something?” 

I throw my ID on the counter. “Dude, I am twenty nine years old.” 

Curse my genes. Stealing is easier than dealing with this every time. Once my humiliation at the hands of the specky liquor store attendant is over, I pack up my car with alcohol and focus on food. The corner store is well-stocked, not like the one down the road from Kenny’s apartment, which always had smashed in windows. Frozen fries, pizzas, chicken nuggets and other junk are abound in the freezers. This is perfect. As I grab a bit of everything, I imagine Eren, the fresh-faced kid from the photographs gracing the walls in his house, walking in here with some pocket money in hand to buy an ice cream. In Afghanistan, we were the same, uniforms erasing the clear class divide between us. Here, in suburbia, I feel out of place. I wonder how long I’ll stick around for. A few days? A week? I want to be near Eren, but I don’t feel as positive about our surroundings. The ghosts of his parents haunt this neighborhood. His large house feels empty. I wish Hange was still around. Our little apartment was a few steps up from Kenny’s in an arty part of the Bronx, which meant everyone bought takeaway coffees and smoked profusely. It felt closer to home than this world. My dirty old car didn’t elicit such dirty looks from snooty families crossing by it on the sidewalk. I hate my dirty old car because it’s infested with spiders, but I can’t help but feel defensive seeing it receive that treatment. I give the dashboard a little pat when I get back in. 

Eren’s still asleep when I arrive back home, but I clatter around so much with the bottles of booze in the kitchen that it soon wakes him. He rolls in through the doorway, looking weary. 

“You’re making an awful lot of noise. Are you robbing me?” 

I put both hands up. “You caught me. You should never have asked me back here. Tomorrow you’ll wake up with nothing.” 

He smiles and rubs his eye. “I knew you were too good to be true.” 

It’s settled. This is a dream. Tomorrow I’ll wake up in my cot in the tent. I want to go to him and hold him, but I feel shy. We’ve only kissed a handful of times, after all, and he’s being so kind as to let me stay here. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries. I crack a joke instead. 

“Yep. I’m an angel. I bring booze and crappy food from heaven.” 

Eren surveys the bench and starts to laugh. “God, are you planning a frat party?” 

“Get off my dick!” I roll my eyes at him. “I haven’t drunk in almost four months. This is all an evening’s consumption.” 

He rolls forward and inspects the bottles. I watch him curiously, ready to judge him very harshly on his choice. He grimaces at the beer (I thank our heavenly father) and passes up the vodka. He pauses at the Jameson. 

“Have you got any coke to mix that with?” 

I kick the wheel of his chair. “Get out, heathen.” 

“How did I know you’d be a liquor snob?” He’s close enough now to rest his head on my arm. I reach around to ruffle his hair with my opposite hand. This is nice - just a little intimacy. It still feels strange to touch him so freely, even though we’re thousands of miles from the fishbowl that was the medical tent. “Alright.” He says. “Let’s do the tequila.” 

“A man after my own heart.”

* * *

In hindsight, the tequila was not a good idea. It started off civilised. A few shots, and then conversation in the lounge. It was nice. We sat down on the couch and Eren rested his leg over my lap. I even got comfortable enough to start rubbing his thigh. Eren ruthlessly made fun of the records I picked out from his dad’s old collection, and insisted I headed up to his room to fetch his. Most of them weren’t much better. The only crossover we could agree on was Doggystyle, which threw me back to the nineties so hard I almost got whiplash. Eren laughed at me because of my age. I wrestled with him a little, won straight away, and went to the kitchen to grab the bottle. This is where things started to go downhill. 

We downed so many shots. So fucking many. Doing them with lime segments and salt soon went out the window as we started throwing alcohol back straight with reckless abandon. The tequila ran out and we replaced it with vodka as I shifted us outside into the back yard so I could smoke. Snoop Dogg played on repeat as it eventually began to dawn on me that I was drunk as shit. 

So that’s where I’m at. Just staring at Eren as he raps so terribly, shouting curse words off into the neighbor’s gardens. I’m cackling at him, a ridiculous, ugly cackle that only usually surfaces after hours of sustained substance abuse. Suddenly all I want is for him to look at me. 

“Eren.” 

He’s too loud. He can’t hear me. I’m too low. Why is he so high? When did I lie down on the grass? I poke his leg with my socked foot. My cigarette is dangling out of my mouth, dangerously close to my skin. I feel its heat. 

“Eren Jaeger.” 

This time I get him. He looks at me and smiles. “What are you doing down there?” 

Good question. “I’m comfortable.” Or am I? Ash drops down onto my cheek and I sit up to wipe it away. The grass feels damp under my ass. I pass the cigarette to Eren, and he takes a heavy drag. Our eye contact never breaks. 

“You’re so handsome.” Did I just say that? From the look on Eren’s face, I let it slip. He’s beaming. “And you’re too white to rap.” 

“For that, I’m stealing another puff.” And he does. His hand brushes mine as he gives it back. I stare at his knuckles. He laughs. “You look wasted.” 

Surely my alcohol tolerance isn’t that low. “I’m not even that drunk.” The way I’m reeling begs to differ. “What about you? You’re legless.” 

He laughs at that, and pushes me. I almost lose my damn balance. “You’re lucky I like you so much. That pun’s almost a dealbreaker.” I grin, trying to puff at my smoke again before I realise it’s all gone. With absolutely nothing else to do out here, I default to staring at Eren. This is so nice. Hanging out with him is great. If I’d known relationships could be this fun, I might have tried one earlier. I lean forward and pitch into his shin, resting my cheek against the coarse fabric of his jeans. He pats the top of my head. 

“I need to take a piss, Levi. Maybe have a shower. I feel disgusting.” 

“Go on then.” 

“I might need your help.” 

Oh. This one legged shit. “How did you manage it in Afghanistan?” 

“Balance on my left crutch and ditch the other one, then hold my dick with my right hand. There were seats in some of the showers, too.” News to me. For a doctor, I really didn’t know shit about this. “It wasn’t too hard when I was sober, but I don’t trust my balance right now.” 

“Me neither, kid.” I manage to stumble up, and he laughs again. I clumsily tug his chair backwards up the porch steps and he directs me to the bathroom. We look at each other for a second in the harsh white lighting. I feel awkward. I can’t help it. I giggle. 

“What’s the best way to go about this, then?” Logistically, he’ll be better off sitting down considering how much he’s had to drink. I put my hands under his armpits and try to steady myself before I lift him. My face is in his neck. I feel his breath. He’s leaning into me, breathing in deeply. Suddenly the air is warm. I never thought helping another man onto the toilet could feel so intimate, but maybe it’s just the alcohol speaking. Is Eren feeling it too? 

“Is it weird that I want to make out with you right now?” 

It’s definitely not just me. He kisses my neck, just below my ear. A hand runs the length of my arm. His lips graze my cheek. I turn around and kiss his lips. I just have to. The first of our drunk kisses. Where before we’ve been gentle, this is rough. Neither of us are really in control, of our bodies or of our want for each other. It’s uncomfortable with me leaning over him, and my back aches, but I don’t care. The way he bites down on my lip more than makes up for it. I don’t know how long we’re there for, jammed between the toilet and the bathroom door, but in my drunken mind it’s the place to be right now. I touch him frantically, absorbing his warmth through my palms. My hands creep down his hoodie and flirt with the hem. I want to touch his skin so badly, but I don’t want to get carried away. I feel the need to try and draw boundaries, to compartmentalise my roles as lover and caregiver. So I draw back. 

“Sorry. I should let you piss.” His lips are parted, his cheeks red. He’s the definition of a horny, drunk mess, and it takes everything I have not to dive back in for more, or carry him bridal-style to a bedroom and have my way with him. Instead, I lift him, dropping him as gently as I can on the toilet seat, and stand up straight. “I’ll go and get you a stool so you can shower.” His eyes are still unfocused, but there’s an odd look in them now. 

“Thanks, Levi.” I close the door behind me. Poor guy. He deserves to be looked after by someone who isn’t going to perve on him the whole time. I try to pull myself together as I hunt around the house for something he can sit on in the shower. I get lucky with a plastic bar stool, and drag it back to the bathroom, breathing deeply as I go. Keep it together, Ackerman. Knock on the door a couple of times. There’s no answer. I push it open slowly. 

Eren’s still sitting there, but his head’s leaning back against the wall. 

“Eren? You done?” 

He looks at me and raises a brow. “Yup.” 

Oh, so he’s just drunk. “Okay. Should I get you in the shower?” 

He nods. And then the clothes come off. He strips his hoodie, his shirt. I gulp. The pants are next, until he’s just sitting there in briefs and a bandage. He rests his hands on his knees, and I most certainly don’t notice how this position accentuates the muscles in his upper arms. And the bulge in his underwear? Definitely not noticing that either. 

“I’m ready. Turn it on for me?” 

I literally tear my eyes away. My heart’s beating at an unacceptable pace. Turn the water on, check the temperature. Anything to distract myself from thinking about how well-endowed he is. “It’s good.” 

Eren smiles a coy smile. “Ok.” Off comes the bandage, his fresh wound exposed. Then the underwear. It’s stripped off tantalisingly slow, elastic catching on the pits and valleys of his leg muscles. And then he’s naked in front of me. Raw lust burns as it exits through my pores. It’s me steaming up the room, not the shower. To say I’m at half mast would be the world’s biggest understatement. But I’m dedicated to reigning it in, so I face him with a confident stoicism. 

“I’ll support you over.” 

Our contact feels like it’s over too soon. I hoist him by one arm and settle him in the open shower. The warm water hits my face and hair as I put him down on the stool, steam heavy between us. This is so fucking hot. I see every inch of him. The perfect lines on his abdomen. His lithe chest, moisture running down it in drips. I want to kiss him, lick it off. I hate him in this instant, for being the most irresistible person I’ve ever seen. Poor boy just wants a shower. I step away and push my wet hair back, taking a deep breath of air before I speak. It doesn’t really help - it’s so humid. 

“I’ll have a shower upstairs then. See you in 5?” 

There’s no wait for his answer. I dash out the door for the second time and race up to the second floor. Turn on the faucet up there as I strip down. I look at myself in the mirror. God, I’m hard, and my cheeks are flushed. The urge to jack off is so strong, but I try to stop the urge as I step under the flow by squeezing my dick with one hand. The pressure helps relieve my pent-up tension a little. I put my head back, so the water hits my forehead. I really can’t afford to fuck this up. Eren and I are already moving fast enough without me putting any pressure on him to have sex. And it doesn’t help that we’re both more than a few drinks down. Anything that happens between us should happen sober. 

When I head back down, I’m more composed. He seems it, too. I try to coax him into the downstairs bedroom, but he insists it’s for his parents. I don’t want to argue with that. We clamber up the stairs together again, me fully dressed with dripping hair, him in his underwear. I get him settled down in his room. Posters watch us from all of the walls - Beyonce, Mariah Carey, some of cars and superheroes I can’t recognise. Good. Nothing to quell any imminent horniness like a teenager’s bedroom decor. I hunt for my medical bag. He’s mysteriously silent as I pull it towards us, taking out my disinfectant and dressings and placing them on the wooden floor beside me as I kneel before him. It’s gonna take me a while to get up from this position, but it’s a compromise I’m happy to make. I start cleaning him, and he flinches at the cold contact. 

“You okay?” 

His answer hits me as forcefully as a pickup truck. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay here.” 

This sobers me up to the max. I look at his face. He’s just staring at his leg, looking regretful as shit. My stomach lurches. 

“I mean, I can leave. Get a hotel. I didn’t mean to push myself on you.”

He laughs. “That’s not it. You haven’t. I mean…” He pushes his hair out of his face. “Fuck, I’m drunk. I’m just feeling all self-conscious and I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Eren? The most confident person I know, self-conscious? I hardly know how to respond. “About what?” 

He lies back on the bed with a sigh. I just keep treating him, wrapping a fresh bandage around his wound. Even inebriated me can tell it’s healing nicely. I’ll get this done, grab my things, and haul ass. Suddenly the whole evening we spent together is colored gray. I was enjoying spending time with him so much, I never stopped to consider how he might feel. I should have given him more space. 

And then I hear Eren mumble. 

“What did you say?” 

He mumbles again. It’s indistinguishable. He has his hands over his mouth. I fasten his bandages and use the mattress to right myself, sitting down beside him. “I can’t hear you, Eren.” 

His words come out as a frustrated shout. “I’m fucking embarrassed!” Now he’s started, I know he won’t stop. Words rush out of him. “You’re funny, and you’re attractive, and you like me. But you have to help me go take a piss, get me in and out of the shower!” He props himself up on his elbows so he can berate me better. “That’s not hot in the slightest! Why would you want me when our heated makeout sessions happen while we’re right next to the toilet? I feel like shit, I feel like an invalid, most of all because I’m seeing myself through your eyes as some tragic one-legged loser.” His chest rises and falls irregularly, and I can see tears in his eyes. “So I try to take my clothes off in front of you, in bloody-minded desperation, and I swear you don’t even bat an eyelid. I just want you to want me, and I can’t see why you would when I’m like this.” He waves his stump for impact and rubs angrily at his eyes, spreading wet across his face and hands. I stare at him like a muppet.

Holy shit. He wanted me to want him? We all know what I’m like by now. Terrible at being kind, being comforting. All I can bring myself to do is put my hand out and touch his chest. He’s rigid at first, looking at me with uncertainty. My hands running down his pecs, over his hip bones, help to even out his breathing. My first time touching his bare skin so intimately, and it feels incredible. My hard-on is back with full force. I draw back so I can see his expression as I talk to him, not knowing what’s going to come out. I want it to be natural. I want him to feel how I feel. I take him in, lying there with his hair askew, green eyes blazing, and say the first thing that comes to mind. 

“I want you, Eren. You’re so sexy. I’d help you take a shit if you needed and I wouldn’t care.” 

The delivery is stunted, but it’s clear and concise. Straight away I ask myself if this was the right thing to say. His snigger, through his tears, shows me it wasn’t. Or it was. He’s a weirdo. 

“Seriously? I thought you stopped kissing me before because you weren’t into it. You hardly even looked at me when I took my clothes off.” He’s trying to mask his hurt now, but his tone gives it away. I stroke his face. I can’t believe I’ve made him feel like this when he deserves the fucking world.

“I didn’t want to be creepy. I was so turned on.” 

Is he blushing a little? Cute. “Were you really?” 

“Yes, Eren. I don’t give a shit about your stump. I’ve seen them before.” 

He raises a brow questioningly. “You make it a habit to fuck guys whose legs you’ve lopped off? Doesn’t seem ethical.” 

I should find his snappy comebacks annoying, but I really like them. This one makes me grin, and slap his arm gently. “Not like that, idiot. It’s just you. I’d have you any way I could get you, leg or no leg.” 

His eyes are still red, but he’s smiling again. Good. It’s been dark out for hours, but the sun’s up in here. We’re in sync again, the words we’ve laid out for each other warming the room around us. Whoever thought talking about our feelings would solve problems? I know, I know. Everyone but me. I lean forward, and press my lips against his. I feel him sigh against me. When I pull back, there’s a gleam in his eye I haven’t seen before. It sends heat shooting straight down to my groin. When he speaks, his voice is husky. 

“Show me.” 

It’s sinful. If anyone else spoke to me like that, I’d be inside them within minutes. But this is Eren. I want pleasure, but I want this to be special. I want to give him love. 

“Sit up then.” 

I kneel back on the ground in front of him, and stroke his amputated leg. Run my hands all over his knee, touch the bandage. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up. I stare at it hard. It doesn’t scare me. It’s a part of him, part of the man I’ve been crazy about since I met him. He needs to know this. So I lean forward, and press a kiss to the bandages. His breath hitches. 

“Does it hurt?”

He looks uncertain again. “No. I just… Wouldn’t do that. It’s gross.”

This makes my heart ache. How could someone so perfect think this about themselves? “Nothing about you is.” 

I kiss it again. I kiss all around it, working my way up towards his knee joint. And when I reach it, I can’t stop. I run my lips up and down his thighs, stopping to bite and suck. I admire each mark I leave, satisfying a bizarre sense of possession I’ve only ever felt around him. He rubs my hair. 

“Levi.” Eren’s voice is shaky. It’s a plea. He’s asking for more, for release. I can’t stop. I can taste body wash. I just want to taste him. My hands lock around his hips as I look up at his eyes. 

“Let me show you how much I want you.” 

He nods. He watches each minute shift in his lap with hungry eyes. I need more of this. I run my hands over his ass, over his back. I feel every single shudder of his deep in my chest. I press my nose into his lower stomach, just below his belly button, and breathe. Then I grasp the waistband of his briefs between my teeth. His mouth drops open as I snap the elastic back against him. 

“Tell me this is okay, Eren.” 

If he nods any harder his head is going to roll off, but I still require verbal confirmation. I look at him until he concedes.

“Please.” It comes out breathy. I love that I can do this to him. I grin, and proceed to kiss him through the white fabric of his underwear. He throws his head back with a sigh, which stretches out into a heady groan when I open my mouth around his head. My saliva turns the briefs a sheer gray as I place wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down his shaft. Eren’s hips buckle forward slightly every time I make contact. God, he’s responsive. I’m already resigned to sucking his dick each day for the rest of his life, and I haven’t even had it in my mouth yet. Something that has to change. 

I tug his briefs off and toss them on the floor behind us, careful not to disturb the nice job I’ve done bandaging him up. His cock springs loose. I salivate for it, but I want to draw this out. I want to watch him want me forever. I strip my shirt off slowly, and gaze at him as his eyes roam over my chest. It feels so good to be admired by him. My blood roars through my body so loudly I can hardly hear his voice as he speaks. 

“You’re incredible, Levi. I need you.” 

I’m hungry. I bury my face between his thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin. His groans feed me. I want to tease him more, but I need to taste his cock so badly that I ache. The musky smell of him is overwhelming. I grip the shaft in one hand, and look him in the face as I press my lips to his head. If it was possible for me to come untouched, this would be the time. His expression is indescribably sexy. I watch it change as I slide up and down him. I’m gentle at first, establishing a slow rhythm. His head starts to tip back. Fuck no. I suck hard on his tip, tasting bitter pre-come as it spreads over my tongue. Eren positively whines and threads his hand through my hair. I pull back and lick up his shaft with a flat tongue before I talk to him. My voice comes out so low, it surprises me. 

“I want you to watch me, Eren. I want you to say my name.” I must still be buzzed if I’m feeling this needy, but he gives me what I ask him for. His gaze locks with mine, brilliant green meeting slate gray. I watch his chest rise and fall as I push him down my throat, right to the hilt. My nose meets dark hairs. He moans. 

“Levi, oh my god, Levi.” I feel veins pulsing against my lips as I slide up and down. He hits the back of my throat again and again. The hand that’s gripping my hair clenches harder and harder, until he’s tugging at my roots. I absolutely love oral sex. It makes me feel so powerful. Being in charge of Eren’s pleasure is a whole different buzz. I cry a silent tear for everyone in this world who hasn’t sucked him off as I watch him alternate between whispering and crying out my name, but he’s fucking mine now and I’m not going to let him go. He’s being so good, watching me, but he’s struggling to keep his eyes open as he nears his climax. I can’t wait to taste it. 

“Levi, Levi…” He’s struggling to muster up any words. My name is flowing out of him like a mantra. “Levi, I’m so close.” This is true music to my ears. I pull back and focus on stimulating his head, passing my lips over the ridge again and again. 

“You’re goddamn gorgeous, Eren.” His dick twitches in response. “Come for me.” 

That’s all he needs. A bit of encouragement. He bucks forward, pushing into my mouth. I taste the familiar combination of salt, sweet and bitter as it floods over my tongue and into my throat. There’s so much, I struggle to take it all in as Eren calls out, over and over again. I guess this is a man who likely hasn’t had the opportunity to wank in an ungodly long amount of time. I swallow, and then swallow again as I feel him start to soften, making more space in my mouth. He looks so spent right now, hands in my hair, sweat on his brow. I adore it. I give him one last teasing suck, and he quivers so satisfyingly I know I’m never considering sex with anyone else again. 

“Oh, baby.” Pet names usually make me cringe, but I’ll let it slide for this one. “Levi, fuck. How’d you ever get this good?” 

I’ve sucked many a dick, kid. This is what I think, but probably not what I should say. I let the alcohol thrumming through my veins answer for me as I slip his soft cock out of my mouth. “I just needed you to know what you do to me.” 

He pitches forward and holds me tight. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, his face in my neck. “I didn’t mean what I said before. I’d miss you if you left me.” 

My heart thrums. “I’d miss you.” We sit there, him squeezing me like an anaconda, for god knows how long. The vodka’s effect is clearly still strong, but my anxiety has cleared. He wants me here, so bad. And I want to stay. I’ll be with Eren as long as he wants. I whisper in his ear. 

“Let me wash my mouth out, and then let’s go to sleep.”

He looks at me with full drunken confusion. “No. Let me do something for you.” 

I like this boy. I want him. But my level of inebriation is currently far too high to teach a straight boy how to fuck men. Besides, I’m so sexually satisfied by swallowing his come. Is that weird? Some kind of fetish shit? I literally don’t care. He’s happy tonight, and that’s all I could ever ask for. 

“Nah, I’m too drunk to get it up.” I am simply rock-hard, but he doesn’t need to know this. “I’ll go have some water, and then cuddle you, yeah?”

He nods sleepily. I won’t let slip that I’ve never cuddled in my life. I go to the upstairs bathroom, and gargle with some water. It tastes fresh. I look at myself in the mirror again, shirtless and flushed, and try to see what Eren sees in me. It helps, a little. I guess I’m not so bad if he gets so excited about my lips on him. 

When I make it back to bed, he’s snuggled up in his blankets. I tug my jeans off and crawl in, wrap my arms around him. He responds by leaning back into me, and murmurs something so lovely. It almost takes my heart out. 

“I’m so glad you’re staying.” 

Sign me up for a ventilator because this relationship is horrible for my cardiovascular system. I respond in kind, planting a light kiss on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for having me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I tried to split this because my chapters are usually around half the length but there just wasn't a natural break so enjoy this extra extra long one, hope it's not too much of an overload! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting, all your lovely words truly make my day every time x I'm so glad there are people out there enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!


	17. (You Drive Me) Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: sexual content

Light floods in through a gap in the curtains, and I put an arm up to shield my eyes from it. My drunk ass did a shit job of closing them last night. The clock on the bedside reads quarter past nine. Despite the harsh glare of the sun waking me at this ungodly hour, I’m content with life. I look down at Eren. He’s nestled in my armpit, a warm hand resting on my stomach. I feel so domestic right now, it’s wild. Even the faint signs of a hangover, a dry mouth and a slow pounding in the front of my head, can’t kill my buzz. I could wake up like this every day. I reel him in closer and breathe in the scent of his hair. No more standard issue shampoo, I realise. Something else to get used to. 

My shifting causes him to stir. I watch as he inhales deeply through his nose, wrinkles his face, opens his eyes. They’re unfocused, still clouded by dreams, until he looks up at me. There’s a split second where I worry that he can’t remember last night, or even worse, that he can and he’s regretting it. But then he cracks a wide smile, far too bright for this dark room. His teeth glimmer in the low lighting. His hand starts to move slowly, tracing the contours of my stomach muscles. 

“You’re still here, huh?” I’ve spoken to him early in the morning before, during the rounds we’d run at the crack of dawn, but I’ve never heard him like this. His voice is gravelly, and a little slurred. It does things to me. I pull him a little closer, rubbing his upper arm. He hums at the gesture. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” I say. “Didn’t have anywhere better to be.” Translation: there’s literally nowhere on this earth I’d rather wake up. Eren’s a smart kid, surely he can read between the lines. I think he gets it from the way he’s beaming. He glides his palm up my chest, up the side of my neck, and fists in my hair. It’s gentle, but firm enough to hold my head still. I can’t look away - not that there would be much of a chance of that anyway. He’s irresistible. The proximity of our bodies right now has me questioning whether I’ve died and gone to heaven. Me in my briefs, him in his… I dimly recall discarding his underwear on the floor last night. Is it still there? He throws a leg over mine, and I feel wiry hair and some very firm morning wood pressing against my thigh. Holy shit. 

“You’re so cute when you’re coy, Levi.” I want to argue that I’m far too masc to be cute, but I realise I’m happy to be anything Eren wants me to be right now. He’s pulling me towards him, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. He’s done this almost every time we’ve kissed so far. I really like it. “Why don’t you just admit that you love waking up next to me? I won’t tell anyone.”

I don’t know if I can say that out loud, but I think I can show it. I lean down and capture his lips with an open mouth. He responds with a sigh, inviting me in. My tongue searches his mouth, and I taste the bitter remnants of the alcohol we drank last night, as well as something else so heady I have to work to suppress a moan. Eren. Blood crashes in my ears as he responds to my kiss with equal enthusiasm, gripping my hair harder and sliding his tongue across my bottom lip before working it against mine. I love my mouth on him. I remember sliding it up and down his cock last night. That was fucking amazing, but it was a quick drunk blowjob. This is different. We’re sober, and the feelings are so much sharper. His warm skin on mine. His erection twitching against my leg. I want to commit every sensation to my memory, engrave it on my skin. 

He shifts suddenly, and my eyes snap open. He lets go of my hair and traces the line of my jaw, taking in my features. “You’re so fucking hot.” I’m at a loss for words so I settle for touch, mimicking him by thumbing his cheek. I’m trying to translate his expression - there’s almost something sheepish about it. “Levi, I…” He laughs. “I want to get on top of you, but I don’t know if I can do it by myself.” 

Getting physical with a fresh amputee was always going to come with its challenges, I think. I stroke his hair, pushing his bangs back. He’s looking a little awkward, so I kiss his forehead. My stubble scratches against him. “Okay.” I say. “Let’s get you up.” 

What follows is a bit of an uncomfortable struggle. I wrap my arms around his waist and spin him so he’s lying flat on top of me, before pushing my hands between us to support him. I keep one hand on his chest and another on his bad leg, steadying him. Weeks in a bed has made him weaker. Tight muscles are still visible in his arms, but he shakes a little as he holds himself up. He’s determined though, giving away none of this uncertainty in his face as he smiles down at me.

“Pretty good, huh?” 

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt turned on and proud at the same time. “It’s really good, kid.” 

He makes a face. “I don’t know how I feel about you calling me kid when we’re about to fuck.” 

I laugh. “That’s fair enough.” Then - “we’re going to fuck?” 

He responds by burying his face in my neck and tracing its lines with the tip of his tongue. He places gentle kisses just below my ear that make me shiver. Then he presses his nose against my lobe, and whispers to me. “What do you think?”

I groan so loudly. God he’s hot. He starts working his way down my body, and I almost lose my mind watching him kiss my pecs. He stares at me seductively as he flicks his tongue over a nipple. Does he know how gorgeous he is? It’s hard to believe that he doesn’t at least have some idea. I want to touch him badly, to run my hands all over him, but I’m caught up trying to hold him stable so I have to settle for just looking. Sunlight’s pouring in heavier now, a strip of it curving along his shoulder blades, and I watch them ripple as he moves slowly across me. He’s so brown in comparison to my milky white skin, and there’s a light dusting of freckles across his back. I think about kissing them, burying my face down into his spine as I take him from behind. 

“Eren.” I hardly recognise my own voice, I sound so wound up. He looks up, eyes glassy, and rests his chin on my sternum. I feel him panting, hot breath spreading over my chest every time he exhales through his nose. “Kiss me again.” 

I don’t have to ask him twice. Our earlier kisses were slow, sexy, passionate. This one’s searing hot. We’re both messy, communicating very clearly to each other where this is going to go. Eren’s the first to pull away, gasping for air. His arms are trembling from exertion. Enough time on top. I grip him securely by the waist, my other hand in the crook of his knee, and flip him over onto his back. He lands with a sharp intake of breath, eyes wild as I lower my body against his, giving my hips a practised jerk. 

He tosses his head back and sighs. “Shit. Do that again.” I grind a few more times, at a speed far slower than my raging hormones are telling me to pursue. Drawing it out appears worth it, though. Eren’s hands snake around my body, and short fingernails dig into my back with each thrust. The friction’s so heavenly, but I need more. 

“I don’t want you to come like this.” I’m leaning in the crook of his neck, where his smell is the strongest. It’s so fucking delicious I sink my teeth into it, and he responds by grabbing my asscheek hard. It takes everything I have not to finish. Afghanistan really messed with my stamina. “Do you want my hand? Or my mouth?”

“I thought…” He punctuates this by rutting against me, and I grunt. “I thought I told you we were going to have sex.” 

I pull back and look down at him, trying to clear the haze of lust that’s clouding up my brain. “You mean…” 

One of his hands touches my face, decidedly gentle. Eren’s cheeks are pink, and his hair’s a mess. I look into his eyes, and they’re dark, his pupils blown. He parts his lips and lets out a breathy whisper that I’m certain is going to fuel my wet dreams for the rest of my life. “I want you inside me, Levi.” And then he grabs my ass again. I’m done for. I can die happy now. He pushes at my underwear, maneuvering it past my tailbone before using his stump to get me the rest of the way naked. I kiss his lips, his cheeks, his chin. A hand wraps around my shaft and starts tugging, slowly. I close my eyes for a moment and sigh, hovering in the moment. This good-looking, funny man wants to touch my dick. And so much more besides. 

“Does this feel okay?” When I open my eyes, there’s a startling uncertainty evident across his features. Eren’s the opposite of me, so confident in every situation. It’s unexpected to see him falter in bed, which is probably one of the only places I feel truly comfortable. “I’ve only ever touched my own, so I want to make sure I’m doing it right. I want you to feel good.” 

It’s in this moment that I’m quite certain I love him. I kiss him again and again, winding a hand through his hair. “It is good, Eren. It’s better than good. I’ve been wanting this since I met you.” 

He’s taken his hand off me now, instead settling for wrapping both arms around my neck. The palpable sexual tension has been replaced by a warmer, more tender atmosphere. I don’t know which I prefer. “I think that’s part of the problem. There’s been such a lead-up to this, and I fucking like you so much. What if I disappoint you? I know nothing about sex with men, and I also get the feeling you’re really experienced.” I snort at this. He’s making me sound like a Casanova when the majority of my expertise lies in quick fucks in club toilets.

“Eren, I’m not going to stop having feelings for you because we have bad sex.” Argh. “Not that we’re going to have bad sex! Shit, sorry.” I press my forehead down on his so our eyes are close. “No matter what kind of sex we have, it’ll be the best sex of my life. Okay? I’m already so turned on after this heavy petting. We could stop now and I’d be satisfied.” I put a palm on the side of his neck. “Maybe this is going a bit too fast. Do you want to stop?” 

He stares at me for a moment, and then squeezes his eyes shut. And then he shakes his head. “Fuck no, I don’t want to stop!” The doubt has cleared. That cocky smile is back. I kiss the dimple on his right cheek. “You deserve the best sex of your life.” He’s killing me. I press my knuckles to his chest, and he grabs my hand and squeezes it. I love him, and I’m going to screw him into next week. 

“Have you got any lube?”

The next couple of minutes are spent feeling up his ass while he rummages around in his drawers hunting for it. I don’t know why anyone would want to keep such ungodly junk around, and I’m torn between wanting to reprimand him for his terrible organisational skills and burying my face between his cheeks. I settle for the latter, licking him with varying pressure as he doubles forward, trying to concentrate.

“Levi, ahhhh…” Despite himself, he’s pushing back into me, wanting more. “That feels amazing, oh my god… Do you want me to find this lube or not?!” I chuckle and concede, not before giving a final, long lick that draws a moan out of him. I wrap my arms around his waist instead and plant kisses up and down his spine. “Found it!” He holds it up triumphantly, and I let him go to snatch it. 

“Lie on your back and spread your legs.” 

He obliges. I pause for a second just to stare at him. He’s propped one arm behind his head, the other on his cock. Dark hairs run down his chest and stomach. I want to follow their lines with my mouth, or paint them with splatters of white come. I feel absolutely filthy looking at Eren, and I think he’s feeling the same. I see a small bead of precome leaking out of his swollen head. I don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. Lube spreads down my fingers as I settle myself on my knees between his legs. 

“I’m going to take this nice and slow, Eren. If it hurts or you want me to stop, you tell me straight away.” 

He rolls his eyes, but I give him my no-nonsense look until he concedes. “Fine!” And that’s all I need. I start fingering him. The first one goes in easily. Eren lets out a sharp gasp and strokes himself. 

“How does it feel?” It feels amazing to me. He’s warm and tight around my index finger. I push it in further, searching for that spot. Eren’s breathing a bit irregularly, but I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or discomfort. 

“It’s good…” His head tips back slowly. “I like it. It’s just new.” 

I stroke his lower stomach and his thighs with my free hand slowly, to help relax him. I’m leaning forward, licking the head of his cock, when I find his prostate with my finger. He jerks so violently I think he’s had an orgasm for a second. 

“Okay, what was that?!” I smirk at him, and he gazes at me in wonder. So I do it again and again. I hit the spot inside him with one, two, and then three fingers. They make such an obscene sound, sliding in and out, and I want to tell him how much I like watching them disappear inside him, but I decide we’re doing enough new things without introducing serious dirty talk into the mix. So instead I shift from between his legs to a resting position beside his abdomen, where I can still reach his dick and his hole, but I can also kiss his gorgeous face. He gets up into a sitting position and locks a leg around my knees, his hands holding onto my shoulders. I wrap an arm around his back to hold him steady. He’s sweating like crazy after a few minutes of these ministrations. A bead runs down his throat, and I lick it off. I’ve never been this disgustingly horny. I could watch him get off all day. 

“Does it feel good, Eren?” 

Of course it does. He can hardly muster up an answer, he’s so strung out. He breathes hard against my collarbone, muttering a string of incomprehensible words. I can’t resist teasing him a little. 

“I didn’t quite catch that.” 

He laughs, and then moans again. “Fuck you, asshole.” I lean forward to catch his lips. We kiss sloppily until he convulses, and pulls away. “No, no no no.” 

I stop immediately, pulling away from him a little so I can see his face. “You okay?” He’s leaning back over my arm. I’ve never seen his cheeks this red. He shakes his head slowly.

“I almost finished.” He lifts his head a little, opening one eye to look at me. “I don’t want to come until you’re in me. Please?” 

He could have me do absolutely anything with that look. I’d jump off a bridge. Hell, I’d probably go back out on tour. So fucking him isn’t a hard ask. I lay him back down and pull a cushion underneath the base of his spine. He runs his hands over my scalp as I settle above him, lining myself up. I fumble a bit with the bottle of lube, stalling just in case he changes his mind. He doesn’t. He’s staring up at me with utmost certainty. So I push in, nice and slowly, nestling my head back down into the crook of his neck. I hear his carotid pumping blood against my ear. He’s tight and hot and oh my god this is amazing. Never have I ever had sex with someone I felt so deeply for. My mind goes blank. Words fail me more than ever, except for one. 

“Eren.” It comes out as a sigh. He wraps his arms around me, running broad hands down my shoulder blades. We’re both clammy from the summer heat. I’m high on the smell of our bodies. Eren’s lips press against my ear. 

“I’m in love with you, Levi.” 

I can’t speak, I’m so lost in this feeling. So I kiss him instead. I hold handfuls of his hair as I start moving inside him. He digs teeth into my shoulder. We move slowly at first, but it doesn’t take long before I feel a coiling in my stomach. Shit. I don’t ever want this to end, but I guess it’s not the only chance I’ll get to be this close to Eren. I groan into his ear. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

I shift back to get a better look at him, gripping at his thighs for leverage as I pick up speed. The need to close my eyes, fully lose myself in this pleasure, is so strong, but I don’t want to miss a second of his. I want to see how good I make him feel. And he’s watching me unabashed as he jerks off. He watches me until the very last second, when he meets his release. His back arches, his eyes close and widen, his come paints his stomach and chest in rivulets. He tightens so impossibly around me that I finish seconds later, his name wrenched from my lips again. 

The room feels quiet without the sounds of our sex. It’s soothing. I bask in the afterglow, pressing my sweaty forehead against his. I’m loath to pull out, to separate us, after how perfect we felt together. I listen to his breath, feel his hands rub gently against my ribcage. I love him I love him I love him. 

“That was just…” 

He chuckles, thumbing my cheek. “I know.” His eyes are so beautiful. I feel myself drifting away in them until he presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t think I’ll ever fuck a girl again.” 

I snort. “You’d better not.” Then I overthink the possessiveness of that statement, but judging by the look on Eren’s face, he doesn’t mind it. I nibble on his thumb gently. “I’ll go and get you cleaned up.” 

Extracting myself from his body might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I pick up a cloth from the bathroom and wipe myself down before wetting another one for him. He’s lying prone on the bed when I come back, head resting on a pillow, a hand over his eyes. His footless leg crosses over his other knee. The strip of sunlight has shifted now, falling across the tendons of his ankle. Never thought I was a foot guy until right now, but this kid’s is fine art. 

“You going to stand there all day, or are you gonna come and clean this jizz off me?” 

He’s watching me from under that arm. I approach, resting a hand on the bed next to him, and start wiping at his stomach. Eren’s wish is my command. “Sorry, I was just staring at your toes.” 

He sits up on his elbows and grins. “If you’ve got a foot fetish, I’m afraid you haven’t chosen me very wisely. I’ve only got the one.” Can’t believe I’ve shacked up with a comedian. I reach in between his legs to clean up any residual lube. He flinches a little at the contact. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Just a little.” He pauses, trying to look at my face. “Oh my god, Levi, please don’t feel bad. That was truly the most incredible sex.” 

I sigh. “It was, I just… I think I went a bit too hard at the end there.” I remove my hand and drop the cloth on the floor, turning to sit down on the mattress.

Eren shimmies until he’s sitting up fully, and holds onto my arm to steady himself. He runs his calloused fingers up and down it. “It’s okay. We both got a bit carried away.” He kisses my shoulder. “I was pretty intense too.” This time he kisses my cheek. “What I said, Levi…”

What he said. Oh. What I’ve been feeling for who knows how long. “Don’t worry about it.” My tone is a little more clipped than I intended. “Everyone says heated stuff during sex. I’ll just forget about it.” 

His chin’s on my shoulder now, his chest nestled against my back. “What if I don’t want you to forget it?” Arms wrap around my waist. “Look, I know it’s early days, and it’s a bit full on, and you don’t have to say it back. But it just felt right to tell you.” I feel his eyelashes flutter against my skin. I’m stunned. I’ve been working off the assumption that I’m in so much deeper than Eren is the entire time I’ve known him, but he keeps on surprising me. It’s about time I accept it. Me and my internal monologue aren’t the only players in my world anymore. I like Eren so much because of him, but also because of us. We’re friends, and lovers, and everything in between. Our bond’s deep as fuck. I feel it in my chest, hovering there like champagne bubbles. 

“I mean… if you want to forget about it, that’s okay too.” 

My silence is making him uncertain. I need to say something, but despite the security of his hold on me, the comfort of his heat on my back, I still feel so vulnerable. I raise my hand and place it over his, giving an unintentionally tight squeeze. 

“No. Please.” I breathe deeply. I can do this. I need to do this, for him. “I don’t want to forget. I feel the same, Eren.” The first time I’ve been in love. It feels so light, but at the same time so heavy. 

And this little shit always surprises me. He laughs, grazing his lips over my shoulder blades. Relief’s evident in his voice when he speaks. 

“Yeah, I thought so. You’re not as hard to read as you think.”


	18. On and On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: horror, gore descriptions, references to suicidal ideation

Our first full day on American soil is spent in bed. I get up twice - to crack a window and open the curtains, and then a bit later to fetch leftover pizza I heated up in the oven last night, which ends up discarded by the side of the bed when Eren yanks me back under the covers and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in hours. I don’t even really need the food. I’m sustained by his company, by his smile, by his touch. It’s absolute bliss. Shadows cross the room as the sun makes its way over the sky. I get to see Eren at midday, see him bathed in afternoon light, see his eyes glow as dusk falls around us. Each of these iterations is somehow more dear to me than the last. I love learning about him. He tells me about his friends, his life. Things that never really got brought up when we were on tour. He talks about the first Christmas he can remember, a trip to Germany when he was ten years old, the first time he got drunk. I tell him things too, about living with Hange and my favourite food spots in the city. In Afghanistan, our time together was always limited. Here, under crisp white sheets, it feels endless. I want to lie with him forever, dedicate the rest of my days to finding out how he likes to be touched. By evening, I think I’ve passed my mouth over every inch of him. I leave marks on his collarbones, up his torso. We kiss passionately, tenderly, languidly. I teach him how to fuck my thighs. I discover he likes being told what to do. I discover he likes telling me how attractive he finds me. A lot. 

“You’re so handsome it actually hurts. No, don’t roll your eyes!” We’re onto about the fiftieth appearance-based compliment by the evening, and though I’m truly the most uncomfortable when Eren heaps praise upon me, there’s a little part of me that’s starting to thrive on it. “I’m serious, Levi.” He’s holding my face in both hands, punctuating the end of each sentence with a light kiss on my lips. “I never ever imagined I could find a guy this sexy. You’re the best I’ve ever had.” 

I stare into his eyes as I stroke his chest. I do find this interesting. For someone who has always had heterosexual experiences, Eren has taken surprisingly well to understanding and expressing his feelings for me. I never struggled much over my sexuality compared to other gay and bi men my age because I was already such an outcast in other ways, but I still remember the anxiety and confusion that came with realising that male asses turned me on. From what I can see, Eren hasn’t had any of these doubts. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he smiles at me. 

“When did you notice?” He raises a brow at me in question. “That you liked me.” 

“Hmmm.” His forehead furrows as he thinks. “It must have been the first day. You told me that stupid story about the molly.” Lines clear from his face, and he sighs happily. “I just remember thinking you were so frickin’ cool. It was that killer deadpan sense of humor that drew me in. And your arms. You’ve got hot arms.” He ghosts a hand along one with a cheeky smirk. “My leg hurt like a bitch that night, and I didn’t really sleep much. I just found myself thinking about you.” 

Cute. How’s that for love at first sight, huh? “I thought about you that night too.” He kisses my forehead. “Did you find it disconcerting at all? Having a crush on a guy for the first time?” 

Eren’s eyes widen slightly. “No. Should I have?” 

“A lot of people do.” 

He looks thoughtful. “I guess you’re right. I think I was just lucky. My family’s pretty accepting, and my sister’s gay.” 

I didn’t know this. “Mikasa?” 

Eren nods. “She told us when she was fourteen that she had a girlfriend and mom and dad were chill about it. To me, it was just normal. I’ve always thought I was straight because I only ever liked girls, but I’ve never been adverse to the possibility of guys.” He grins. “Jean came on to me once, before he met Marco. It was weird, but because he was Jean, not because of his gender.” A strand of hair slides down in front of my eye, and Eren brushes it away. “When did you realise you liked men?” 

“Early on.” I say. “Kenny took me to a screening of The Outsiders when I was a kid and I got a free poster. I used to stare at it all the time and it took me a while to figure out why. The first time I ever jacked it was to Rob Lowe.” 

Eren cracks up. “Rob Lowe? God, I forget how old you are.” 

Little shit. “Keep that up and I’ll leave.” 

He smiles. “No, you won’t.” 

I kiss him. No, I won’t. This is so nice. Talking is getting easier and easier. I find myself wanting to volunteer information. “I didn’t actually sleep with men until I was a bit older.” Eren’s a good listener, if a bit distracting when he gets handsy. I slap him away from my inner thigh. “My first was the kid of one of the junkies that was always around at Kenny’s. He’d come into my room and listen to records while his dad would suss in the lounge. One day I brought a bottle of vodka in, and the next thing I knew we had our hands on each other’s dicks.”

“True romance.” Eren chuckles. 

“It certainly wasn’t my finest moment. I’ve gotten a lot better at sex since.” I run a knuckle down his stomach teasingly to emphasise my point. He groans and shuts his eyes. 

“Fuck, don’t tempt me like that. I simply couldn’t go again, I’m too exhausted.” 

I laugh at him. “Who’s the old man now, huh?” 

“Let me be!” He whines, trying hard to suppress a smile. “Hey, turn around. I want to spoon you.” 

I’m still the least cuddly person on this planet, but as usual, Eren’s a special case. I turn around and let him press his body up against mine, one of his arms propped underneath my head. He presses his nose against my hair as his hand runs up and down the side of my body. It’s so relaxing. I copy the rhythm of his breathing, trying to get us perfectly in sync. 

“I love you.” It takes me a moment to register that words slipped out of my mouth. I feel rather than see his smile. 

“I love you too.” 

It’s night again, the room bathed in darkness but for flashes of headlamps from cars going by on the street. It must be about eight o’clock. The jet lag is real. I could easily fall asleep now, but I try to fight it. I need my circadian rhythm to adjust to this time zone before I have to head back to work. Eren’s breathing is so deep and even I’d think he was asleep, if not for the hand that’s still gently stroking me. He’s rubbing my hip, working his fingers over the network of scars there. 

“Levi.” His voice sounds a little hesitant. My body tenses up. I think I know what’s coming.

“Yeah?” 

His knuckle’s in the groove of the longest one on my femur, tracing it gently. “What happened to you?” 

My discomfort mounts exponentially. Suddenly I’m painfully aware that I’ve been naked in front of Eren all day, showing off my busted body in all its glory. Of course he’s curious. People are curious enough when all they can see is my limp. I try to remind myself that it’s not gawking or nosy coming from him. He’s missing a leg, for god’s sake. If there’s anyone I should feel comfortable bearing my scars around, it’s him. But still, the thought of talking about the accident makes my mouth go dry. 

Eren shifts his hand so that he can take mine, threading our fingers together, and holds me tight. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t tell me if you don’t feel comfortable.” 

I really, really don’t. But that’s less to do with Eren, and more to do with having to relive it. And if I’m going to give this relationship a proper shot, I need to get better at sharing. I can’t just shut down when feelings get too heavy. I squeeze Eren’s fingers hard. 

“I’ll tell you. Just…” I pause. “Please just let me talk. Don’t say anything until I’m done.” 

“Okay.” His response is so silent, it’s almost inaudible. I breathe in, then breathe out. Then let it flow. I start where it feels natural - from the beginning. 

“I joined the Army two days after I turned eighteen, and I regretted it so hard for a hot minute.” I pause, testing Eren. He stays dead silent. I swear he’s even holding his breath. “The first few weeks were shit. I had zero discipline, so going from that to one hundred percent following orders felt pretty much impossible. I was late to everything. I hated folding the hospital corners on our stupid bunks. I smoked everywhere, even in the toilets at night. I fought with a lot of the other guys. I was in trouble all the time. I bulked up so much just because of all the punishment press-ups I had to do, but none of that made me behave myself properly. I was on a course towards getting kicked out when I made some friends.” 

“Farlan had the bunk above mine. One night I got into a really bad fight. I’d developed a bit of a reputation, and people were always keen to test their strength against me. Three guys jumped me while I was walking across the quad. I won.” Eren chuckles at this. “They ended up in the infirmary, but I was pretty beat up. My nose bled all over my sheets. Farlan helped me out, dabbing it dry, cleaning up my cuts. He was nice. We had a laugh.” 

“He’d joined the army with his friend Is. They had a similar story to mine, expelled from high school, no particular skills or talents, a history of petty crime. It was the first time I felt like I made friends I really liked.” Warm arms give me a comforting squeeze. I reach back and stroke Eren’s hair. “We started hanging out. Suddenly I felt like I had a reason to be in the army. I got my behaviour sorted out because I didn’t want to be separated from them. They were my family. We went to mess together, we trained together. And because I’d chilled out, and they were such a friendly pair, other people weren’t so scared of me anymore. I kind of felt like I had a place in the world. I’d never had that before.” I don’t think Eren’s ever been quiet for this long while awake. I’m actually impressed. He’s hardly even moving except to rub his thumb over my palm. 

“Life was good. Until it wasn’t.” It’s getting harder to force the words out now. My windpipe’s swollen. I gulp down saliva to try and clear the discomfort. “We never even made it out of the States. Nobody saw it coming. We’d had a night away from base before a training exercise with some tanks. We were all hungover as fuck. I was the worst. I tried to have a cigarette after morning drills, and it made me sick. Is was laughing at me, calling me weak as shit. I went and puked my guts out in the toilet while they headed off. That was the last time I saw them.” 

Eren’s squeezing me so hard it’s no longer comfortable. I feel trapped. “Can you let me go?” 

He disentangles his limbs from mine. The skin that was pressed against him feels cold, but it’s refreshing. I lie on my back. Eren props his head up on an elbow so he can look at my face. I very pointedly stare at the ceiling. If I see his expression, it’ll make this worse. 

“The tank exploded.” The noise of it echoes in my ears. The smell of petroleum, of heavy metal, of fire. It all feels so overwhelming. “They were in there. Farlan, Is, a couple of others. I was a metre away when our commanding officer spotted me. He chewed me out for being late. It saved my life.” I laugh bitterly. “Everything was red. Jagged pieces of the armory hit me. They were so heavy they broke my back and my leg. I never even saw it happen. I wasn’t facing it. Erwin says I was so lucky nothing struck the back of my head. I passed out because of the pain and woke up alone in the infirmary. Everyone else died.” 

I reach out for Eren. He takes my hand again, more gently this time. 

“There were no caskets. They burned. It got so hot in there that nothing was left.” Am I going to be sick? I sit up and lean forward, resting my head on my knees. Eren sits up too. I want him to hold me, but I don’t want him to touch me. I feel faint. My hands are numb. But I’m here now, at the crux of the story. I may as well force the rest out.

“The tank was faulty. A leaking fuel hose. And it wasn’t a one-off. Tanks all over the country had been malfunctioning, but this was the first time it had happened when people were inside. Our commanding officers passed it off as user error for so long, until there it happened again in Pennsylvania. Two cadets died. They covered that up too, but they finally recalled the tanks.” I finally pluck up the courage to look at Eren. He’s sitting cross-legged for balance, an elbow resting on his knee. He looks so sad, but it’s not pity. It’s understanding. I’m at once grateful that he knows loss, and heartbroken that he’s had to experience it. 

“I felt like I should have been in the tank too.” 

Tears start to fall from his eyes. He wipes them away with the back of his hand. “Levi…”

That’s it. That’s enough. I can’t talk about this anymore or I’m afraid I’m going to spiral. I shrug at him. “So there you go. That’s my tragic back story.” I stretch my shoulders, trying to flex away the heavy atmosphere enshrouding us. It helps a bit. “I need a smoke.” And a drink. Or five. Jesus. I jump out of bed and tug my clothes on. Eren doesn’t say anything. Maybe he recognises that I need space. Maybe he’s finally realising I’m damaged goods. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it. 

I head downstairs and turn the lights on. Pour a very tall whiskey, find my cigarettes and head outside. The night air is cool. It smells like summer. Noises from a nearby garden, loud music and chatter, travel towards me. It’s grounding. Reminiscing was threatening to derail me. I can’t afford to get lost in the past again. I’m here, in the present. I’m home. I’m safe. Until I head back to work in two days. 

Base is full of painful reminders. Me and Farlan’s smoke spot, the table that Is commandeered for us in the mess hall. I feel their ghosts all around me there. I feel my own ghost when I’m in the infirmary, see my younger self lying in one of the beds wishing I was dead. Erwin’s presence makes it bearable. Without him, I don’t know. The thought of standing in that bleak room all day is horrendously oppressive. I need to quit, but I don’t know where I’ll go. I look up at the sky. Stars aren’t as bright here as they were in Afghanistan, but surely my opportunities are. I couldn’t be a GP - my general medical knowledge isn’t up to date enough, and I definitely don’t have the people skills. But an emergency department somewhere could be an option. Trauma and crush are my specialties. I picture myself in scrubs, patching up teenagers with broken arms and treating cases of whiplash from car accidents. Looks like a walk in the park compared to treating patients in a warzone. 

I have a future, I tell myself. Fear and uncertainty have ruled my world for too long. I can’t let them win. I finish the last of my whiskey, rest the glass on the porch seat next to me and light a cigarette. The combination tastes so fucking great. I’m unwinding again now, my hands regaining feeling, the sound of the explosion all those years ago fading from my ears. I’m okay. 

The sliding doors crack open, and Eren appears. He’s dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his hoodie draped over one arm of his chair. He spots me and shoots an uncertain look, like he doesn’t know what mood he’s going to find me in. 

“You left your one-legged boyfriend upstairs alone.” 

Oh shit. “Sorry. I totally forgot. How did you get down here?” He can’t get his chair outside either - there are a couple of steps leading out to the deck. We’re going to need to build a ramp. I walk up to him, holding my cigarette between my lips, and lift the chair down by the top of its wheels. It lands with a light thud on the wood. Eren steals my smoke and takes a drag. 

“I had to bum-shuffle down the stairs. It wasn’t easy.” His eyes are twinkling. “As tax for your mistreatment, I’m keeping the rest of this cigarette. And you’re getting me a whiskey.” 

I oblige him, but not before leaning down to press our lips together. I want to say thank you, but I don’t know why. Thanks for listening before? Thanks for acting natural now? Thanks for being you? He grips the back of my head, holding me close for a second. Our eyes lock. He looks like he wants to say something for a moment, but then he lets out a little breathless laugh. His typical teasing lilt follows.

“Stop stalling, bartender. I want my drink.” 

“Again with the role-play, huh?” He grins and smacks my ass. “Is that how you treat wait staff?”

“It’s special treatment reserved only for you.” 

I fetch him a glass, and bring the bottle out. He pours for us while I light another cigarette and we sit together in a comfortable silence, me on the porch seat and him in his chair. We must look so normal. Is my suburban fantasy playing out right now? Eren certainly fits in better than a wife and some snot-nosed kids. I touch his knee. 

“I need to have a look at your wound.” 

He nods. “Soon. I want to sit out here a little longer.” 

“Tomorrow I’ll move the bed down to the lounge.” He looks at me with a raised brow. “Then you don’t have to worry so much about relying on me while I’m at work. You can use the downstairs bathroom.” 

“That makes sense.” He’s smiling warmly now. I wonder how long it’ll take before I get used to the way it makes me feel. I squeeze his thigh. “Thank you, Levi. I honestly have no idea how I’d take care of myself if you weren’t around. You’ve been amazing.” 

I don’t know what to say to that, so I have a sip of whiskey. Eren’s still staring at me contemplatively. His eyes are intense. I feel too awkward to hold his gaze. I look anywhere but his face - beyond his ear, his shoulders, at the marks I’ve left on his neck. 

“Do you still feel that you should have died back then?” 

How is he always so direct? I take a deep drag of my cigarette and mull this over. I haven’t really thought about it in a while. I used to wish every night that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. I’d replay that morning over and over in my head, thinking of alternate scenarios that involved me in the tank instead of my friends. Or just with them. Sometimes I’d think about dying just so that the guilt would stop, but I was never motivated enough to act on it. But that was a long time ago. Thinking about it still hurts, but not as keenly as before. Erwin helped with that, and then Hange. Having friends who gave a fuck if I lived or died. Even the team out in Afghanistan, Eld, Mike, especially Petra. My life just kept getting fuller. Sometimes it still sucks, knowing the people I left behind have been fading for a while now. But I suppose I can’t cling on to them forever. 

And now I have Eren. I don’t want to say anything overly dramatic about him being my one and only reason for existing, because that’s not how it is. But he does add so much color to my life. Living without him was fine, but it was muted and murky at times. Now everything I feel is so much sharper. It’s like putting glasses on and seeing the world with 20/20 vision. You don’t miss them before you get them, but once they’re on, they become essential. 

My eyes meet his once again. He’s searching my face, waiting desperately for a response. He looks so concerned for me that it aches. 

“No.” I say. He breathes out, deep relief evident on his features. “No, I’m glad I’m alive.” How long has it been since I’ve said something like that? It feels cathartic. “I’m glad I’m here, with you.” I even make it through that one without fidgeting. Eren rubs my forearm. 

“Me too.” Are those tears in his eyes again? He blinks quickly and grins again, trying to banish them. “I’m so happy.” 

I take his hand in mine. There’s a pleasant heat in my chest, a combination of the whiskey I’ve downed and my ever-growing fondness for Eren. All of a sudden I’m not close enough to him. I lean in, kiss his cheek, whisper in his ear. I’d gladly ditch the rest of my cigarette to have him in my arms. What’s happening to me?

“Let’s go back to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally learning a bit more about Levi’s past! Hope you all enjoy x let me know what you think! This chapter is the first full one I wrote when coming up with this story so it’s very dear to me <3


	19. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: references to blood and gore, recreational drug use

There’s nothing more disorientating than waking up in Brooklyn. Adjusting to home life in other ways has been relatively easy. I take a hot shower, make a cooked breakfast, have a smoke on the porch. All of these things still feel ridiculously luxurious. You don’t know true happiness until you’ve used a scented body wash after months of stinking like blood and sweat. And bacon? Heavenly. I ran out on the fourth day back at work and had to settle for some oatmeal I found shoved to the back of Eren’s pantry. I couldn’t even take a bite, the gruel flashbacks were so strong. I picked up breakfast from a gas station on the way to base camp instead. Even the crappy coffee tasted amazing. Work is boring, but boring’s good. No severe injuries yet, just a few unfortunate cases of chlamydia and a broken arm from a fall during endurance training. The sound of the comms system still gives me anxiety, but it’s nothing a cigarette or two can’t fix. Or a trip to the liquor store on the way home. God, I missed booze. Beer and wine. Vodka, whiskey, tequila, Sambuca. I drink it all straight, on the porch in dying sunlight. Eren hates it, and insists on mixing his into “cocktails”, which really just means any of said spirits with a copious amount of Diet Coke. I think he’s a philistine. That’s a long word he’s taught me. I’m picking up quite a few and I reckon Hange would be very impressed. We pass knowledge back and forth in the evenings. He reads boring books to me, I teach him how to suck dick, he shows me how much I like being held. We fall asleep wrapped around each other, and that’s when the memories creep in. 

Behind my eyelids I see so much death. Blood leaking out of bodies. Bones cracked and broken. Shrapnel stuck in flesh. It’s raw and red in my dreams. I know what I have to do in every single one. Running a bowel to check for nicks, draining a chest, administering antibiotics. But I have nothing. No scalpels, no stitches, no medicine. I try as hard as I can to stem the flow of blood with my hands, but it doesn’t stop. It runs down my arms and drips off my elbows onto the floor. I wake up gasping every time, coated in sweat so thickly I still think I’m in the dream for a moment. I shake and shake. Sometimes I shake so hard I wake Eren up, but sometimes he’s already lying there, staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. I get up and dry myself off, and we comfort each other. We pass gentle, loving touches over each other’s skin. I watch his eyes shine in the darkness. And then I fall back into the world of dreams, and it all starts over again. 

The worst ones are the ones with Eren. In some of them, I see him die of infection, sweaty and sick and vomiting. In others, I cut poorly and he bleeds out during the amputation. In the most heart-wrenching, he survives the procedure, but he hates himself and sees no reason to carry on without his leg. I feel so guilty in these ones that I can’t even bring myself to hold him when I wake up. Usually leaving nightmares is a relief, but these nightmares hang over my brain in a thick cloud because I know it’s not over. People are still fighting. People still die. And Eren wants so badly to be a part of that hellish world again. He’s haunted too, but in a different way. Sometimes when I see his face during the night it chills me to the bone. I don’t think he sees death in his dreams - I think he sees revenge. He softens when I kiss him one, two, three times. When he remembers where he is. And like all of my other dreams, I try to erase this from my mind in the mornings, passing it off as simply another apparition of the darkness. I much prefer daytime. Under the morning light, everything is as it seems again. 

Nine days have passed since our triumphant return to home soil. It’s the weekend again, and I get some time off. This was unheard of in Afghanistan. I hardly know what to do with myself. Eren’s really taken to sleeping in, so the house is quiet. I’ve set up his double bed in the lounge, shunting the couches to one side to make space, so I feel bad if I make too much noise in the adjacent kitchen. He usually wakes up at the crack of dawn when I get up for work, mumbles some nonsense to me, and then swiftly passes out again. I want him to lie in uninterrupted for once. Maybe this is my chance to get reacquainted with my independent streak. I pull my boots on and head out through the back door. I’ll go out and buy us a breakfast. He’ll like that. 

The streets are relatively quiet. I pull my pack out of my pocket and light up. Stare at my car for a second, and then decide to walk instead. Make the most of this weather. This neighbourhood still isn’t quite used to me. I get a few dirty looks from joggers and soccer moms pushing their prams. I’m a fairly respectable guy with a respectable job, but I guess I still give off strong street rat vibes by the way people look at me. I obviously don’t belong here. Eren says it’s my “white trash” swagger. This offended me deeply until he told me how hot he found it. Apparently, my boyfriend likes the bad boy type. I suppose I can see how I fit the mold, but it still makes me cringe a little. We’re a lame-ass trope couple. The chain smoking bad boy and the hot, all-American jock. Find us in any predictable romance plotline. 

Except our all-American boy has one leg, and a fiery disposition. The last week hasn’t been easy. Where coming back to reality has been a relief for me, it’s been immeasurably painful for Eren. Before I went back to work, things were great. We indulged in some heady escapism lying under his bedsheets until midday, drinking from three. But now that I’m following a schedule, have a steady routine in place, our honeymoon is well and truly over. He feels the loss of his mobility keenly. Breaking the news to friends has been the hardest. When I got back on Monday, he was in a horrible mood after spending the day on the phone with Jean and Armin. It brought the truth home. He cried, shouted, and predictably, hurled things. Books from our bedside ended up scattered all over the lounge. I escaped outside to let him cool off, and he appeared half an hour later, looking sheepish and apologetic. I just held him tight. Every day since has come with its challenges. He gets stuck in the shower, on the toilet. He loses his balance and falls trying to get into his chair. His body’s covered in dark bruises that blossom around his hips and ass. I massage cream into them every night. 

Everything about it is familiar. I remember learning to walk again, figuring out how to live with the chronic pain in my back and leg. It fucking sucked, but where I clammed up, Eren gets angry and rails. He protests the unfairness of it all. It is unfair, and I feel for him terribly, particularly because I was the one that performed the amputation. There’s really nothing I can say that will make him feel better, so instead I try to do things. Prep his breakfast in the mornings so it’s easy to cook, make dinners, buy him gifts. Books, video games, anything to keep him occupied while he’s sedentary. I’ve also misused my position as a doctor and fast-tracked his rehabilitation application, chosen one with a good reputation in the city. He’ll start next week, practising with a standard prosthetic, and they’ll measure him up for one of his own. We’re not out of the woods yet - learning to walk with a fake leg is one of the most gruelling processes. Eren’s excited, but I’m more apprehensive. I see weeks of frustration in our future. It’ll be hard, but I’m up for it. 

Because despite Eren’s fluctuating moods, being with him is so amazing. We have fun together when his tantrums pass. He keeps me company while I cook and talks an immense amount of shit that I love to hear. He listens to me talk about my day at the table, joining me in mercilessly ragging on the fuckwit soldiers I have to put up with on a daily basis. He teases me about my taste buds which, after years of heavy smoking, are so dead I have to load up every dish I make with ridiculous amounts of salt and spice. We sit on the porch and drink, or watch TV and drink, settled under a blanket together. He nestles into my shoulder or lays his head on my lap while I stroke his hair. We brush our teeth together, which I just adore. He kisses me tasting of mint. And the sex is incredible. It’s hot and dirty or sweet and loving depending on how much energy we have, how many times we’ve reached out for each other in bed. I love his body. We’ve talked about having space at night a few times, when we’re both trying our best to be respectful and do this right, take it slow. When night falls, I always end up sliding in next to him, and he smiles so welcomingly. He whispers in my ear, telling me how much he loves me. It makes me weak. 

So yeah, I’m all shacked up now. It’s pretty embarrassing, but I don’t want it any other way. I catch myself smiling sometimes, and it shocks me. I even say thank you to the girl at the deli three blocks away from Eren’s place when she hands our sandwiches over, instead of my signature nod. People who know me are blown away. It’s uncomfortable at base. I’m consistently pestered with comments like “Ackerman’s totally getting laid” just because I don’t swear at patients quite as often as I used to. If Eren was a chick, I’d say an enthusiastic fuck yeah and impart some salacious detail about my sex life to appease the masses. As it currently stands, I don’t think the other doctors would take well to hearing about how good Eren’s getting at fingering. Though I guess you never know. I’m looking forward to finding out how many other closeted queers I’ve worked with when the archaic don’t ask, don’t tell rule is repealed one day. 

This makes me think about Erwin. Work isn’t the same without him. The team isn’t so bad here, but I definitely miss Erwin’s mind-reading capabilities. We’re friends, but we’re also great workmates. Nobody else really gets me like he does. He always knows what to say, when to leave me the fuck alone. At least, he did. I’m not fully happy with how we left things in Afghanistan, and I can’t really picture what our relationship will look like when he comes back. Assuming he makes it back. I shake my head, trying to clear this thought. Erwin will survive. I feel it. 

I’m back at Eren’s, fumbling with the lock on the front door as per usual. Walking has done wonders for my leg - it’s not bothering me as much as usual today. Though that could have something to do with the strong painkillers I have access to again. I know I shouldn’t pop codeine as liberally as I do, but goddamn if it doesn’t do wonders. I swear I don’t even limp as much. The door finally gives, and I’m plunged into darkness. Lazy little bastard isn’t even awake yet. 

He’s so sweet when he sleeps that I’m almost loath to wake him. Curled up on his side, covers drawn up under his chin, he’s the picture of innocence in a way he’s most certainly not when he’s awake. I toy with leaving him a little longer, but then I decide I want to be an asshole. He’s left me alone for long enough. I chuck the sandwiches down on the bedside table and clamber on top of him, nuzzling his ear. He stirs, then frowns, then mumbles. 

“No. A little longer.” 

I check the clock next to us. “Don’t be lazy. It’s almost eleven.” 

“Shit.” He rolls over onto his back and rubs his eyes with balled-up fists. I readjust my position so I’m on all fours above him, caging him in. “Sorry. I wanted to be up by ten to hang out with you.” His arms wrap around my neck, hands rubbing my undercut. “Were you lonely?” 

“Incredibly.” I kiss his nose. “No, I was alright. I went for a walk and got us some breakfast. Those sandwiches you like.” 

Eren sighs blissfully. “You’re a god amongst men, Levi Ackerman.” He tugs me down into a wet, warm kiss that threatens to turn into a heated makeout session. I weigh a number of factors up in my head. The sandwiches on the table beside us, my grumbling stomach, my quickly-hardening cock. Eren’s hands slide up my shirt, and my horniness wins out. He’s so wonderfully warm from sleep, I can’t resist. I pull the sheets down to expose more of his skin and press our bodies together. He moans and grinds against me. I guess I’m not eating breakfast today. 

His hands are fumbling with my belt when we hear a knock on the door. I pull back, looking at Eren in surprise. He looks just as nonplussed. 

“Not expecting anyone?” I say. It’s definitely not for me. This isn’t my house, despite how I’ve been feeling over the past few days. 

“No. Probably a Jehovah’s Witness or something.” He strokes my crotch. “Just ignore it, we’re busy.” 

It’s a dangerous power he has over me. I stick my tongue back into his mouth. Fuck, he tastes great. But the knocking doesn’t let up, and I’m starting to get pissed off. 

“Shit!” I leap up and do my pants up again, trying to tug my shirt back into place. I take a couple of deep breaths as I head out into the hallway, shouting to nobody in particular. “Someone better be dying!” 

Eren’s still laughing at me when I open the door with a little more force than I’d intended. I’m worked up, I can’t help it. The offending knocker stares at me in shock, hand still raised in prime position to rain more hellish pounding down on me and Eren’s impending lovemaking. He’s a tall, gangly-looking guy about Eren’s age with frosted tips. Very Justin Timberlake. I bark at him. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

He looks me up and down, chewing gum with an open mouth. “You’re shorter than I imagined.” 

Okay, I definitely don’t need this. “Really? I’m short? I’m so glad you’ve pointed it out, I never would have noticed.” 

This just makes the door-knocker grin wider. “Everything else is spot on, though.” He extends a hand, and I look at it with disgust. He laughs. “Come on, dude. Surely you’ve heard about me. I’m Jean.” 

Oh. Of course this is Jean, I think. The way he talks, the way he dresses. It’s very Eren. I take his hand and give it a shake. Great way to make a first impression on my boyfriend’s best friend. 

“Shit, sorry. I was just in the middle of something, and…” 

He pushes past me into the house. Are all of Eren’s friends as ridiculously brash as he is? Jean starts yelling when he enters the lounge. I follow him and stand in the doorway, watching as he terrorises a poor, naked Eren by forcing the curtains open. 

“Look at the sorry state of you! God, it stinks of sex in here.” He looks between us like a disappointed mother telling off a couple of teens, his nose wrinkled. “Come on, you two. I get it. You’re a fresh couple and all you want is to be all over each other at all hours. But this is just ridiculous. Get dressed, Eren. Up and at ‘em!” 

Eren rubs his face with one hand. “Shut up, Jean. You’re just bitter because your relationship’s growing stale.” 

Jean kicks the mattress hard. “Is that really how you speak to your loving friend who you haven’t seen in months?”

“That’s how I speak to my pain in the ass friend who just barged in as I was about to get laid.” Eren looks at me. He’s grumbling, but he’s enjoying this exchange. It’s banter. “Levi, can you get rid of him? Take him out to the garden so I can get dressed.” 

I gesture for Jean to follow me with a nod of my head. He hollers a few insults Eren’s way as we traipse through the house, and Eren responds in kind. God they’re loud. It’s a relief to close the sliding doors between them. I sit down on the porch seat and pull out a cigarette. Jean sits down next to me and leans back, resuming sizing me up. I raise a brow at him. 

“Want a smoke?” 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

We’re silent as I light up. My hunger’s coming back full force. I hope Eren remembers the sandwiches when he comes out. 

“How’s he been?” The joking tone in Jean’s voice is gone. “Armin and I are really worried.” 

It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. “He’s not great. He has his moments. But he’s doing well, everything considered.” 

Jean smiles. “He told me you’re amazingly patient with him.” He did? This is lovely. “It’s nice to meet you, Levi.” 

I’m glad chewing him out hasn’t altered his opinion of me too much. I smile back. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” 

And it is. It’s great getting to know Eren’s friend, seeing a different side to him. Eren brings the sandwiches out and we spend the whole day in the backyard together. I’m happy to be quiet and listen to the two of them talk. Jean tells me a whole lot of stories from high school, mainly about playing reluctant back-up in fistfights Eren would drag him into. Some about parties, cringe-worthy attempts at winning over girls. They embarrass Eren deeply, and make me laugh. It’s strange to imagine him as an awkward teen since he’s so self-assured now. It just adds depth to him, his various traits filling out into a multi-faceted prism. I’m in awe, as usual. Jean comments on it with a smirk. 

“You know these stories are supposed to make him sound bad, yeah? Not have you find him more attractive.” 

I scratch my face, feeling a little uncomfortable. I’ve gotten so used to being alone with Eren that I’m finding it a little hard to reign myself in around other people. Eren notices, and deflects for me. 

“You of all people should get it, Jean. Remember your crush on me? You had zero self-control.” 

This starts them off bickering again. I zone out and lean my head back, look up at the sky. A passenger liner goes by, leaving a plume of white in its wake. I feel so at peace in this moment. Eren and Jean’s relationship is reminiscent of me and Hange’s. We’re always at each other’s throats, tearing into one another lovingly. I think about her, about her PhD that I’ll probably never have the reading comprehension to understand. I wish she was in New York, that she could meet Eren. I think they’d hit it off. 

Smoke starts creeping up from Eren’s spot opposite me, obscuring the blue of the sky and blending in with the clouds. A familiar smell hits my nostrils. I look at him. He puffs at a joint, thick plumes escaping from his mouth, and hands it across to me. 

“I told Jean you were missing smoking weed, babe.” Pet names, huh? Is he already high? “You’ve been bitching about it all week, so he sussed some.” 

Jean nods encouragingly at me. “It’s premium stuff, dude.” I literally don’t care how good it is. I take it between my thumb and forefinger and inhale, holding it in my lungs as long as I can. Shit yes. It’s been way too long. This might be the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I’m overcome. I breach joint etiquette as I take drag after drag, but I don’t care. When I hand it to Jean, it’s just a short little roach. I look at Eren through hazy eyes. 

“I fucking love you.” 

He cracks up. Jean grumbles that he was the one who paid for the weed. This is background noise as Eren leans in. I meet him halfway, pressing my lips to his. Perfection. Work, night terrors, the war, everything’s inconsequential. Everything except for this. I love my life.


	20. I'll Be Missing You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: recreational alcohol

For the first time since I’ve been back in New York, I’m in a crap mood. 

I have an acute case of Monday-itis. In Afghanistan, we didn’t have Mondays. In Afghanistan, I didn’t have a boyfriend who gets a little too wine-drunk on a Sunday night and keeps me up reciting painful bars of Romantic poetry until around one in the morning when I have a seven o’clock start. As sweet and hilarious as I found this, it started to test the boundaries of my patience after about five minutes. He finally stopped two hours later when I threatened to sleep upstairs in Mikasa’s vacant room. Eren’s dormant form this morning filled me with such an intense feeling of jealousy that I couldn’t even bear to kiss him goodbye. I carried my half-full cup of coffee out to my car and leaned against the bonnet while I had my first cigarette, hoping the fresh morning air would help to clear the heavy cloud of exhaustion that was threatening to settle in behind my eyelids. It didn’t. And the day only went downhill from there. 

I ran into Zackly the second I arrived at base, and tried desperately to feign politeness while he proceeded to bait me for about ten minutes. When I finally escaped, I got vomited on by a patient with a bad case of food poisoning. I ran out of cigarettes at lunch, and got stuck in traffic driving to the gas station to buy some more. As I was coming out of the store, I saw a fuckwit driver clip my wing mirror. They drove off and I didn’t have the energy to try and chase them down, so I settled for throwing a stone from the side of the road at their rear window. It missed, and only left a small dent on their bumper, which was not cathartic in the slightest. Tensions ran high for the rest of the day. The need to throttle someone was so strong. I missed talking to Erwin keenly. In a last-ditch attempt to pull myself out of my mood, I took a detour to a record store on the way home to have a look for something new to play in the car. Eren’s music is fine most of the time, but sometimes all I want to do is just get in my feelings and belt out crappy grunge. But my car, old as it is, only takes cassettes and they’re phasing them out in favour of CDs. The selection at the store was meagre, and there was absolutely no way the Beegee’s Greatest Hits was going to pull me out of my slump. I left empty-handed and chainsmoked the entire way home. 

And now I’m struggling with the fucking stiff lock on this stupid fucking front door and I’m about four seconds away from blowing my top. I feel like absolute shit, not only because I had a crap day, but also because I’ve had so many more crap days. I’m not in a warzone. There’s no need for me to be grumpy because of the inherent privilege of my current position, which in turn makes me even moodier. Who the hell do I think I am these days? I’ve seen countless people bleed out and die and been in less of a funk. This is self-centred bullshit, but I just can’t bring myself out of it. I’m tired and mad and I’m spiralling hard. I need a hearty depression meal, like some oven chips, and then a long night of well-deserved sleep.

When the door finally pops open, it slams against the wall and rattles the countless family portraits lining the corridor. Loud music echoes through the house. Sounds like some Lauryn Hill, which I usually love to watch Eren belt out. Right now, the sound of her voice is grating. I trudge through to the kitchen. It’s an absolute mess, with vegetable scraps lining every single surface, and a thick layer of grease coating the hob. Eren’s careening around in his chair, maneuvering a mixing bowl on his lap. He looks up at me with a broad smile. 

“Hey, Levi.”

“Did a bomb go off in here?” This comes out a little more curt than I would have intended, but Eren doesn’t seem to notice. He starts laughing like I’ve just made the funniest joke he’s ever heard. He’s in such a good mood he’s practically vibrating. It’s too bright. 

“We’re hosting a dinner party. Armin, Jean and Marco are coming over.”

My response to this news is so visceral I almost throw up in my mouth. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight. My first physio appointment went so well, I kinda feel like celebrating.”

Shit. Now I feel like even more of an asshole. I completely forgot. “What happened?” That comes out a bit more neutrally. Eren beams. 

“The physio was great. Her name’s Rico. She showed me some stretches and then we did strength building. It was fucking painful.” He laughs again. “But she said I did amazingly well for my first time. She thinks she can get me started with a practice leg by the end of this week or early next.” 

This news starts eating away at the barrier of irritation behind my eyes. It’s great. I shoot him a weary smile in return, and start walking towards him. Boy deserves a hug. But I’ve barely reached him when he turns himself around and lifts up a pot lid so he can start stirring something frantically on the stovetop. Steam billows towards me as he keeps chatting away. 

“So, anyway, I got super excited and called up Shadis.” Is it suddenly uncomfortably hot in here? The back of my neck starts to burn. “We had a long catch-up about my prospects. It felt so good, Levi. He says I’m not likely to see any front line action again, which I had sort of anticipated, but if I can pass basic fitness tests he has no qualms with sending me out again for driving or back-up administration somewhere away from the heat of the action.” 

My armpits are sweating, and my stomach drops lower with every word. Shadis manages back at base. If he says Eren is heading back out, it’s gospel. The only thing that could override his orders would be a below par medical report. 

Fuck. I shunt this thought back into the recesses of my mind immediately. Eren’s looking back at me expectantly now, waiting for a positive response. I’m absolutely speechless. I don’t know why. I know how badly he’s been wanting this. I guess I started to get hopeful, get needy. The way we’ve lived together for the last few weeks has started to feel so comfortable that I wouldn’t leave for anything. Especially not murdering people in a foreign country. It hurts me so deeply, the smile on his face right now. This is officially the worst day ever. I want to scream, to kick, to rage, but I’m not Eren. Feeling so intensely really isn’t my style. So I grit my teeth and give him the answer he wants instead. 

“That’s great, Eren.” Deep breaths, Levi. In and out. I look at his lovely green eyes. I don’t think he can see past his own excitement right now. Thank god. “Hey, I’ve had a long day and I’m sweaty as a pig.”

He smirks. “That’s you? I was worried it was my cooking.” 

Usually I’d have a hundred comebacks about his terrible culinary skills, but I’m not in the mood for one of our bits right now. I let a reluctant laugh to try and disguise my distress. “That’s me. I’m desperate to get in the shower.” 

“Okay.” Eren lets out a little air, and his manic expression eases slightly. “I’m excited for Armin to meet you.” The gentle way he’s looking at me makes my stomach twist and writhe. I’m simultaneously so blessed that he loves me, and miserable that he’s going to leave. That I’m not enough. I can’t bear to look at him any longer, so I give him a nod and trudge towards the bathroom. 

What follows is a long depression shower. I even sit down on Eren’s stool, letting the hot water wash over me. Thoughts slow down as I watch rivulets run down my legs, slicking sections of dark hair together. I feel a little bit catatonic. Empty. Eren isn’t even gone yet. I know he won’t be gone for a long while. There’s no way he’ll be steady on a prosthetic for a few months, at the very least. But the inevitability of his departure has cleaved a piece of me away, a heaving patch of flesh out of my side. It stings so hard it brings tears to my eyes. I rub them away with a fist, try to pull myself together. What happened to my independence? When I was young, I navigated life knowing I was alone. When did I get so weak? It started with Erwin, then Hange, and now this shit with Eren. Opening up has made me so fucking vulnerable. The temptation to cut and run right now is strong. I picture packing my bags, jumping in my car, just driving. Speeding down the freeway with my windows open, cigarette between my lips. Eren’s face is the only roadblock in this fantasy. I can’t leave him, and I know it. I’m tethered to something like I’ve never been in life. 

Suddenly I’m furious at him for tying me down. I kick out with one leg, hitting the shampoo bottles standing in one corner of the shower, and regret it immediately. The loud clatter reverberates in my head, and my leg twinges painfully because of the sudden movement. I was right. Tantrums don’t suit me at all. I get up and turn the shower faucet, try and pull myself together. I’m towelling off my chest when I hear a knock on the door. 

“Levi?” 

It’s Eren, muffled slightly through the wood. Words are still beyond me. I grunt in response. 

“Everyone’s arrived. I’m just about to dish up.” He’s lingering. I think he senses my vibes are off. “What’s the likelihood that we’re all going to get food poisoning?” 

This rips a laugh out of me. It’s strained, but it’s real. I try to ride the positive high, give him some words to work with. “If someone hasn’t shit themselves by the end of the night, it’ll be a miracle.” He chuckles, a melodic sound with a relieved edge. Come on, Levi. Get out of your head, for Eren. “I’m just putting my clothes on. I’ll be out in a minute.” That sounds normal. Good. 

“Okay.” I hear him rolling away as I pull my pants up, buckle my belt. Wipe fog off the mirror and stare at myself for a few seconds. Then button my shirt up, and I’m ready to face the masses. 

Armin is weedier than I expected. He must be about my height, but nowhere near as built. Whereas Eren and Jean look their age, this guy could still pass for a high schooler. Marco’s nondescript, a tall, dark haired boy with freckles who exudes a happy-go-lucky aura that’s a perfect foil to Jean’s abject abrasiveness. I shake both of their hands before we sit down, and Armin’s is surprisingly strong. He stares into my eyes with his own intense, icy blue ones. I realise with a shock that he has eyes just like Erwin’s, that he’s using them to read my soul. I look away quickly as my neck prickles.

We get a collective three bites into Eren’s “curry” when things start to kick off. Jean gags and proclaims that it’s probably the worst thing he’s ever eaten. Eren would take this from me, but definitely not from Jean. The first of many of the evening’s shouting matches begins. I’m actually relieved. I was dreading having to make polite conversation, especially feeling as depressed as I am currently. This way I can just spectate instead. Wine flows steadily as Eren’s friends shift from conversation to conversation. Eren and Jean bait each other endlessly, just like I saw the other day in the backyard. Armin and Marco play mediating roles, changing topics when they threaten to get too heated. It works well. They’re a lively group. I struggle to imagine how Mikasa fits in. I definitely can’t see how I would. Another heady wave of loneliness starts to surge up. 

And then Eren puts a hand on my leg. One of his subtle touches. For someone who is the definition of a bull in a china shop, he can be surprisingly delicate at times. I glance at him. He’s had a few drinks, and his eyes are bleary, but they’re so warm. God, he’s a gorgeous man, even when his hair’s untidy and he has red wine staining his teeth. 

“You good?” It’s a low murmur, quiet enough to fly under the radar as Jean rants on about something on the other side of the table. It’s a little gesture, but it makes all the difference to me. I don’t dig myself out of my hole, but I stop spiralling. I’m not alone yet. Eren’s still here. I thumb his hand, and his smile broadens. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” When my love language became physical touch, I have no idea, but it’s such a comfort to me. I want to say more, to thank him. An uncomfortable niggle stops me. I draw my eyes away from Eren, and look around the table. It’s Armin. He’s staring again, with an unreadable expression on his face. I don’t know how I feel about having an audience right now, let alone such a stoic one. I stand up, a little abruptly. Conversation pauses, and suddenly all eyes are on me. I scratch at the back of my head. 

“I’m going for a cig.” 

Fuck, lighting up outside feels good. Ironically, I’m breathing easily for what feels like the first time today. I sit down with a grunt, and I’m rummaging around in my pocket for my painkillers when I hear the door slide open. It’s those blue eyes again. Jesus. The sense of deja vu they’re giving me is almost sickening. I try desperately to avoid them as Armin walks towards me, sitting down next to me on the bench. It’s a bit awkward. I’m reaching for something to say when he breaks the silence. 

“Can I have a smoke?”

I didn’t take him for a smoker, but I didn’t take Eren for a submissive. I’ve never been able to read people. “For sure.” I pull one out of the pack and pass it over with my lighter. It feels strange to be going through these motions with someone who isn’t my boyfriend. Armin lights it and takes a puff. I’ve just looked away again when he starts hacking dramatically. Smoke spurts out of his nostrils, and his face is a bit green. I smirk. I can’t help it. 

“Not to be rude, but have you ever smoked in your life?”

Armin looks at me through red, teary eyes with a sheepish smile as he attempts another puff. He falters, though not as badly as the last time. Just a couple of little coughs. “No.” Third time’s the charm. This one goes down easy. He leans back, still holding my gaze. “I’ve never even been tempted.” I raise my brows in confusion. “It’s just that Eren says the two of you fell in love over smokes, so I’m trying the best avenue I can think of to get to know you.” 

Weird guy. He’s probably not wrong, though. I bond exclusively over tobacco. I survey the garden as I try to summon up an answer. “So you’re out to steal your best friend’s boyfriend?” 

Armin snorts. “Oh yeah, typical me. No dude, I’m straight as an arrow.” I try to keep my face as neutral as possible as I digest this information, but by Armin’s weary sigh, I think I might have failed. “Don’t look so surprised.” 

“Sorry.” I say. “I think it’s the staring. I wondered if you were a bit possessive of Eren.” 

Armin rests his head against the wall, looks out across the garden. “I just want to figure you out, since you seem to mean so much to him.” I watch him sideways as he speaks. It’s easier to look when those eyes aren’t on me. “You know he’s my best friend since childhood? I know everything about him. Every embarrassing moment, every idiosyncrasy. I love him to death, but sometimes he’s an idiot.” 

This makes me laugh. “You’re not wrong.” 

Armin smiles at me. “You wish we weren't here today, don’t you?” 

It’s officially confirmed. Every single person who is close to Eren is a blunt son of a bitch. “You’re not wrong about that, either. Look, it’s not you.” I take a heavy drag of my cigarette and watch ash fall off the end. “I’ve just had a shite day, and Eren sprung this on me right away when I got home. I wasn’t ready.” Not to mention the Afghanistan bombshell I was hit with an hour and a half ago. I think the bleeding has stopped now, but I’m still picking out shrapnel pieces. 

“Needed more prep time to make a good impression, yeah?” 

I nod slowly. “You could say that.”

Armin gives up, putting out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray between us. I silently decry the waste, but I let it slide. “I get it. Eren’s a juggernaut. He’s not the best at stopping to think about how other people feel sometimes. He’ll doze over you if he’s given the chance.” 

This conversation is threatening to dig into the wounds I’m trying so hard to hide. I take a healthy sip of wine. “I’m feeling pretty dozed over right now.”

“He’s only doing it because he’s excited.” This statement lingers in the air for a moment. I know Eren’s excited. Excited to show me off. Excited to up and leave. Shit. Another sip of wine. I’ve almost finished my glass. Armin tries again, a more positive note in his voice this time. “You know we’ve been talking on the phone every day, yeah? All he’s been saying is that he wants me to meet you. He thinks we’re similar.” 

I didn’t take this college nerd for a comedian. “Aren’t you some kind of boy genius? I highly doubt we have much of a personality overlap.” 

“Eren says you underestimate yourself too much.” At this point we need a laugh track. This is just too much. “We have a similar calm and collected energy. He tends to gravitate towards people like us because we balance him out. That’s why he and Mikasa get along so well.” 

I take this in. I’ve noticed it, I suppose. I’d be stupid if I couldn’t admit how much Mikasa and I have in common, personality-wise. My fingers work at a burn hole in my jeans as I think about the three of us. Mikasa, the sister. Armin, the primary school friend. Me, the grouchy old army doctor. It feels strange, being strung together by the all-encompassing net that is Eren. 

“Are you and Mikasa close, too?” 

Armin nods. “Yeah, we are. I miss her.” 

“I don’t.” 

He has a surprisingly impish cackle. “You definitely wouldn’t be allowed to stay here if she was around.” 

“She’d castrate me for sure.” Armin giggles a bit too hard at this thought. “I should probably start looking for a place so I can escape before she comes back.” I wonder what Eren would do if I moved out. Would he follow me? I try not to entertain this right now. Not when I’m actually starting to enjoy this back and forth. 

“When’s she due?” Armin asks.

I had a briefing on the 104th’s schedule two days ago, but the exact date slipped my mind already. “Probably another couple of months away.” 

He’s quiet. When he speaks again, it’s in a soft, nervous voice. “Do you think she will come back?”

Trying to imagine Mikasa dying is like imagining Erwin dying. In my head, these two are indestructible. “Definitely. She’s strong and menacing as fuck. Are you worried?” 

“Just a little.” Armin sighs. “Eren is too, though he’s hiding it well.”

His reading of Eren has been spot on until now, but I don’t believe this for a second. Eren, worried? I light another cigarette. “He isn’t worried at all. He’s just jealous of her.” Levi, your bitterness is showing. But now I’ve started, I can’t stop. I’ve been bottling this frustration up for too long. “He wants to be out there again so badly, killing people. It scares me.” 

We fall silent, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line. I can’t admit this to Eren. Hell, I struggle to admit it to myself. Why am I telling his best friend who he shares absolutely everything with? Crickets and distant traffic noise are the only soundtrack to my increasing anxiety, until Armin nudges me with a sharp elbow. He’s staring at me again, but this time he looks sad. 

“Me too. He wasn’t always like this. He’s so angry, it’s terrifying.” My mouth gapes. I definitely wasn’t expecting this response. Armin keeps going. “I don’t want him in the army at all. This war’s a mess. We’re on the wrong side of history, and in ten years I think everyone’s going to know it. But there’s no talking him out of it. We both know he’s going to do what he wants.” 

Fuck, this is cathartic. I let out a deep breath, a sigh of relief. I was starting to feel mad, like the only person who doesn’t support jingoistic rhetoric. It’s around me every day at work. It’s around me every day at home, when I turn on the television or read the paper. And it spews out of Eren’s mouth often, so much so that I’ve learnt to adapt. Just smile and nod, and hope it will appease him. Grab him by the back of his neck and kiss him so hard that he shuts up. It works, but it’s hard every time. I hate it. In all of these situations I’m impotent, hiding my true feelings from the world because of my position in it. It’s trapping. Armin’s words help me feel a little more understood, a little more free. Words spill out of me like an exhale.

“I need to leave the army.” Armin’s listening, his wide eyes encouraging. The look that reminds me so much of Erwin no longer gives me the creeps. I imagine it’s Erwin I’m talking to, and it brings me comfort as I spill my guts. “I can’t do it for much longer. If Eren goes back I won’t be able to get away. This shit will still be hanging around, haunting us. I don’t know how I’ll deal with it.” 

“Does leaving the army mean leaving him?” 

I try to picture it again, like I did in the shower earlier, and I feel my stomach turn uncomfortably. “Of course not. At this point, I don’t think it’s physically possible. I’m in way too deep.” Fuck, am I really talking about my love life like this with a law school brat I met today? I need to find some friends my own age. 

“I can tell.” Armin smiles at this, and it breaks up the tension a little. I snort.

“Even though I’ve been such a moody prick this evening?” 

“I have a feeling you’re often a moody prick.” Little shit. He’s grinning widely now. “It still comes through. There’s a weird energy between you two that’s palpable.” 

I like hearing this. That Eren and I look like we love each other. I’m basking in it when we hear the sliding doors open again. It’s Eren, tugging on the handle. He always struggles to pull it all the way. I stand up and give him a hand. He looks piss-drunk now, his cheeks bright red. Words slur ever so slightly as he looks between the two of us.

“What are the two of you doing out here?” His eyes zero in on the ashtray. “Armin, were you smoking?” 

“Yeah.” Armin doesn’t miss a beat. “Levi pressured me into it.” 

“Shut up.” 

Eren laughs. “You two are getting along well, then. Did you want to come back inside? Jean and Marco are starting to get all handsy and I feel like a third wheel.”

Armin gets up and stretches. I itch to touch Eren, especially when he looks so warm and inviting, but I wait until Armin has headed inside before I run my hand over the back of his neck and tousle his hair. He leans into my hand with his eyes closed. 

My inner turmoil is easing. Talking to Armin was like blood-letting. The poisons building up inside me have escaped through my shrapnel wounds. I’m not insane. The war is fucked, and I need to get myself out of this cycle. I need to start taking steps towards healing soon. The path is still murky on the horizon, but it’s growing ever clearer. It feels good. I bury my face in Eren’s hair, breathe him in. I don’t know what I’ll do when he leaves, but I know I don’t want to lose him forever. Whatever happens, I’m sure we can figure it out. He leans up and kisses my chin, the smell of wine suddenly strong in my nostrils. His breath warms my neck as he whispers against me. 

“Is everything okay? You’ve seemed a bit off tonight.” If he’d cornered me alone and asked me before my answer would have been different. Now all I can think is that I love him. “I probably should have asked before springing this whole dinner thing on you.”

He thinks I’ve been in a slump because of the dinner. How he doesn’t see that Afghanistan phases me, I have no idea, but right now I’m giddy so I just find it adorable. I kiss his forehead. “Yeah, you should have.” Kiss him again. His temple is a bit damp. “It’s okay now, though. I feel better now I’ve talked to Armin. He’s a nice dude.” 

Eren pulls back and grins, his face shining. “Isn’t he? I’m so glad you guys get along. He’s an amazing person.”

“Mmmm.” I hum in agreement, pressing my lips against the tip of his nose. “I wonder why he’s hanging out with a loser like you then?” 

“There you are.” Eren strokes my cheek softly. “I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for my brief little hiatus! I've been trying in vain to quit smoking so found it a bit difficult to write a lot of these scenes for obvious reasons but I'm back on the baccy and back on 2003! 
> 
> please let me know what you think of this one x I love reading all your comments so much


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